In the Eleventh Hour
by MadameHyde
Summary: Laslow lost a family once, and then another one soon after. He will not lose a third. Meanwhile, Crown Prince Xander of Nohr struggles to keep his own family together and their hearts intact. What will retainer and Lord do when faced with the cold reality of war?
1. Chapter 1

In the cool darkness of the forest in the astral plane, Laslow began to dance.

His feet knew the steps almost without the help of his brain, but he hummed along to himself anyway. It was wonderful just to _move,_ without the encumbrance of his offset shoulder pauldron and his heavy sword. Both had saved his life on more than one occasion, of course, and he'd never go into battle without them, but still. Once upon a time, he hadn't needed the sword or the pauldron.

But such times had been long ago.

 _The stars really are beautiful, out here._ He might never quite comprehend the complexities of the astral plane, but nature, at least, was universal. The constellations bloomed overhead, unfamiliar but intriguing just the same.

There was so much peace vested in dancing by himself, Laslow decided. No one to impress, no one to let down, no one to be, and no one to miss. Just Laslow and the earth beneath his feet. (Well, the dirt, anyway. He wasn't sure if the astral plane counted as "earth," exactly.)

Somewhere in the not-too-distant forest behind him, Laslow heard something snap. He immediately froze, balanced on the balls of his feet. He hardly dared breathe as he scanned the darkness, listening hard in the direction he'd heard the sound come from.

Silence reigned, but it was the sticky, uncomfortable kind. Just as Laslow was about to chalk it up to a forest creature, he saw a flash of red eyes in the darkness.

Laslow's stomach dropped all the way down the Bottomless Canyon, and his eyes widened. _Risen._ He only just stopped himself from saying it out loud. As his eyes adjusted to the even darker shadows of the inner forest, he could pick out dozens of the undead abominations.

"Gods, no," he breathed.

Cursing himself for leaving his armor and boots behind, Laslow scooped up his sword from where it had been resting in the dirt and began to run.

 _Who's on patrol tonight?_ He couldn't remember. The schedule had been off ever since Effie had taken ill on the day that was meant to've been hers, and then Keaton had gone and traded with Niles, so gods only knew whose turn it _actually_ was to guard the damn place.

Already, Laslow's stomach churned. Although this land was not his, in that moment it may as well have been. The result would be the same if he didn't reach the castle in time. Laslow needed to warn Lord Xander, Peri, Odin, Selena— _everyone_ —before it was too late.

He tore through the forest, nearly running headlong into more than one tree. Branches tore at his bare arms, and gravel dug into his feet, but he pressed on. Nothing was more important than getting back before it was too late.

He would not lose another family.

Up ahead, the walls to the castle loomed. Laslow blinked a few times, but no, what he was seeing was real. There was no one at the gate. There should have been at least one person, preferably two, at each entrance, and the gates should have been shut, but there was no one, and the wrought iron was thrown wide.

Heart palpitating with fear, Laslow rushed through the gates, only to freeze at the sight before him:

Corpses. Dozens of them.

Kaze lay face up, sightless eyes wide. Blood had trickled down from his nose onto his armor. Lady Camilla lay in the center of a veritable knot of risen, each bearing deep gashes and she herself, slain by a well-placed arrow. Keaton lay half transformed just before the records hall, having never even had the chance to defend himself, and Beruka's wyvern was keening over its master's corpse, feebly attempting to make her rise.

Odin was still fighting, ridiculously-named tome in hand, while back to back with Selena, whose blade moved so quickly, Laslow could hardly see it in the darkness. His heart yearned to stand with them— _just like old times—_ but Laslow knew that he would be useless without a shield-sister of his own.

So he pressed on through the carnage, taking swipes at the occasional Risen, but mostly keeping his eyes peeled. _Where is Lord Xander?_ He thought, desperation beginning to color his judgement. _Where is Peri?_ Besides those he'd come from Ylisse with, his liege lord and fellow retainer were some of the only people he could rightly call friend in Nohr.

And how had the Risen gotten here so quickly? Laslow had seen an advance guard out in the forest, and immediately bolted. One man should have easily beaten a whole army to the punch; he wasn't _that_ slow a runner.

 _Unless you saw reinforcements,_ Laslow thought, his stomach sinking like a stone. _But then how could you have missed the vanguard? You weren't so far from the castle as to miss everything… were you?_

And then he saw them. One golden-haired Crown Prince, impaled on his own sword, the legendary Siegfried, and one blue-and-pink haired cavalier slightly before him, perished in the process of defending her liege. Her beloved horse was nowhere to be seen.

"No," whispered Laslow, sinking to his knees. " _No!"_

It was like losing his mother all over again. It was like walking out of his family home after dinner, only to find the yard overrun with Risen, and his pink-haired mother calling his name—

 _"LASLOW!"_

He sat up sharply, blinking grit out of his eyes. He found himself staring down one red eye and a lot of blue hair, and felt some of his breath return. A dream, then. The Risen invasion had just been a dream.

"You okay there, Laslow?" Peri asked, bubbly and childlike and very much alive as ever. "You were moving a lot in your sleep, and shouting a little, too."

"I'm fine," Laslow said quietly, pushing the candle Peri held out of direct range of his shirt. "Just a nightmare."

"Boo," said Peri, jutting her lower lip out. "Nightmares are no fun."

Laslow snorted. "Right?" He shook his head, as if that would clear it. "Go back to sleep, Peri. I'm fine."

She studied him a moment, her visible eye narrowing. People said Peri was a lot of things—a serial killer, for starters, as well as crazy, immature, and unfit to be retainer to the Crown Prince of Nohr—but what they always missed was how incredibly empathetic she could be, when she was of half a mind.

"You're not fine," she accused, poking him in the chest.

If not necessarily nuanced about said empathy.

Laslow gave a little laugh, but it was hollow. "No, I'm not. But I will be, alright?"

Peri straightened up, gave him one last squinty-eyed stare, and then disappeared out of Laslow's tent, taking the light with her.

-)

The next morning at the royal retainers' breakfast table, there was only one person more subdued that Laslow, and that was Odin.

"Odin, you haven't said a single thing this entire time," said Arthur with his typical exuberance. "Has something offended you? In the name of justice, I shall seek it out!"

Odin lifted his head up from where he had been contemplating his porridge. "I don't think you can. In my nightly traversing of the nether realms, I received horrifying visions of—"  
"So you had a nightmare," Selena said imperiously, tossing one long, red pigtail over her shoulder, "I don't see what that has to do with—"

"It was about my mother," Odin interrupted.

At such a simple statement coming from their energetic friend, both Laslow and Selena fell silent. Somewhere to their collective left, Arthur continued to jabber on about justice this and heroes that, but to the other three the world seemed to have frozen.

"You don't talk about your Mommy very much, Odin" said Peri, blithely continuing to eat.

"Neither do you," Odin said, which earned a sharp look from Laslow that the dark mage didn't quite think he earned.

But Peri didn't rise to the bait. "My mommy was an amazing cook," she said. "I learned everything from her."

Odin stared down at the hand he usually held at an uncomfortable angle before him. "I couldn't be more different from my mother if I tried. The dark spirits that chose me as their conduit made it so."

"Impressive you weren't better friends with my father, then," Selena said, preemptively cutting Peri off before she could say anything else. "He would've _loved_ for me to follow in his footsteps."

"So you never became an assassin," Laslow said dismissively, "at least you're friends with one."

"I don't think anyone is friends with Beruka," said Selena, "except for her Wyvern."

"You are correct," said Beruka from the other end of the table.

"Although you did became a royal retainer," Laslow continued as if they hadn't spoken, "so at least you have that part of him to carry with you."

Selena rolled her eyes. "Great."

Peri's visible red eye grew wide. "Do you not like serving Lady Camilla?"

Selena blinked a few times. "Other way around, Peri. I don't care much for my father. Or my mother, for that matter." She stared at the violently red pigtail sitting on her shoulder with obvious distaste.

"You could dye your hair again," Laslow suggested.

"The black did wondrous things for your mood," Odin said absentmindedly. "Chiefly by broadcasting it."

Selena stuck her tongue out at the dark mage. "I might."

At that moment, Effie appeared in the doorway of the mess hall. "Peri, Laslow!" she called, coming over to the retainers' table. She'd taken to arriving late to breakfast to help out whichever poor sods were on meal duty. "Lord Xander requests both of you in his tent immediately."

"Right, then," said Laslow, standing up and brushing some invisible dirt off of his navy blue gambeson.

"Are we in trouble?" Peri asked, getting to her feet as well.

"I don't know," Effie said apologetically. "He just said he wanted to see you immediately."

-)

Out on the castle grounds, a light breeze stirred the cherry trees in way that would have been pleasant, ordinarily.

"I hope we're not in trouble," Peri said, sounding like a guilty child. "I'm not even sure what I did, this time."

"Have you killed anyone lately?" Laslow asked. It still felt like an absurd question, even after all these years serving alongside her.

"No!" Peri said earnestly. "Ever since Lady Corrin asked us not to, I've been trying real hard not to kill anyone. I just didn't expect it to be so _hard."_ She kicked at a rock with one heeled foot.

Laslow stopped walking, and folded his arms across his chest. " _Peri,"_ he said warningly, sounding a lot like his mother when she'd caught him sneaking out.

"It wasn't a _person,"_ Peri defended.

"What did I say about people you don't like still being people?"

"It was a _deer!"_ she burst out, annoyed. "Keaton finally let me go hunting with him, and it was a deer."

Laslow was simultaneously relieved that it wasn't a person, and annoyed that she'd left the castle without telling him. ( _Even though that's sort of ridiculous,_ he admitted to himself privately.) "Well, I doubt Lord Xander would be annoyed with that. Keaton brings the meat back to the mess hall, right?"

Peri nodded energetically. "Well, did you do anything?"

Laslow paused to consider it. "Other than some harmless flirting with his sisters, I don't think so."

Peri rolled her eyes as they approached Lord Xander's tent. "Then maybe we're not in trouble?" she said hopefully.

"Maybe," said Laslow with far, far less hope in his voice.

There were serious voices coming from inside, so the two retainers stopped just before the tent. Laslow listened hard, but the voices didn't rise about a murmur. But when footsteps began approaching, he practically jumped out of the way.

"Why, if it isn't the lovely Lady Corrin!" he managed, more smoothly than he felt.

"Hello, Laslow," she said with a smile. Laslow noticed that her dark blue hair was falling out of its usual buns, and wondered what was troubling her so much she hadn't noticed. "If you're here to see my brother, he's free at the moment."

Laslow nodded. "Thank you, my lady."

It was a stone-faced Lord Xander, Crown Prince of Nohr, who stood over a large, Cherrywood table laden with every sort of map an army commander could possibly need—and several that he didn't.

"Laslow, Peri," Xander said gravely, "have you any idea what I just heard about the two of you?"

 **-)**

 **Normally I do these at the front, but I felt like a change. Laslow and Peri's support conversations really just captured my imagination, so Lord only knows where this is going, but I hope y'all enjoy the ride.**

 **As usual, I don't own Fire Emblem, I'm just playing in the sandbox.**


	2. Chapter 2

Laslow and Peri both blinked at their liege-lord for a moment.

"That I'm an incorrigible flirt?" asked Laslow.

"Or that I'm mean and scary?" Peri asked.

Lord Xander appeared not to have heard either of them. "I've no issues with what two consenting adults do in the privacy of their own space, but for the gods' sake, at least think of common decency! This is a war camp; we live in canvas tents!"

Laslow continued to blink in confusion, but Peri began to giggle. Her hoarse laughter filled the small space, and Laslow felt himself smiling more easily alongside it.

"This is _serious,_ Peri," Lord Xander said sharply. "You simply cannot make that much noise. What if we were out in the field, and you alerted an enemy patrol?"

It suddenly occurred to Laslow what Xander was getting at. "Milord, I swear, it isn't what you think."

Peri continued to giggle. "Lazzy can't even get a girl to have tea with him."

Xander froze, the wind having just been sucked from right beneath his sails.

And then, abruptly, Xander began to laugh—deep, bellyaching laughs, the likes of which Laslow had only ever heard his lord's siblings produce. "Okay, then tell me—why was Peri seen leaving your quarters in the dead of the night after a profuse amount of noise, Laslow?"

Laslow did his best not to shrink underneath Xander's black-eyed stare. He opened his mouth to speak, but Peri beat him to it: "He had a nightmare, Lord Xander. I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

"Peri," Xander said, rather gently, all things considered, "I was speaking with Laslow."

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she sniffed audibly.

"Peri," Xander said again, sounding for all the world like he did when Elise would start to cry as a child.

Peri's fingers curled into fists, and she thrust them behind her back. Lord Xander may have been more tolerant of her demeanor than many other bosses may have been, but that didn't mean his patience was endless. Besides, she owed him a lot. So she bit her lip, and looked down at her boots.

"Is this true, Laslow?" Xander said, turning to his other retainer.

Laslow nodded, some of his false cheer returning. "Yes, milord."

Xander's facial expression softened, just a hair. "Peri, you may go."

She bobbed an off-balance curtsey and departed, leaving Laslow and Xander alone in the war tent. For a moment, the two men simply breathed in the silence—silence being the rarity that it was in a packed-full war camp.

"Is everything alright, Laslow?" Xander finally asked.

"With all due respect, Lord Xander, it's my burden to bear."

Xander airily inspected one of the war maps. "I can make it an order, if you like."

Laslow snorted, defeated for the moment. "I dreamt of home, is all."

Xander raised one blond eyebrow. "It is not often I hear you speak of your homeland. Has something happened?"

Laslow shook his head. "No, I just…" _Miss it,_ his mind filled in, so he started again. "One war feels very much like another, sometimes."

"In what way? You've never mentioned your previous service."

Laslow could have kicked himself.

"I had guessed, of course," Xander mercifully continued. "After all, no one becomes so proficient with a sword overnight. Were you a mercenary?"

"Of a sort." Laslow snorted again. "You're astute as ever, milord."

Xander gave a sort of half smile. "And you are evasive as ever, Laslow."

Anger bubbled up from somewhere deep in Laslow's gut, and his eyes narrowed. Wasn't it obvious that if he wanted to talk about it, he would? "For good reason."

Xander winced, mostly at himself. "Forgive me. I do not mean to pry."

Quick as it had come, most of Laslow's anger dissipated, and his facial expression relaxed. "I know you only ask because you care—and truly, it is one of your best qualities—but it's just… too painful to talk about."

"Understood." Xander nodded. "And just so you know, the offer to speak to someone professional still stands. I would do no less for you than I have for Peri."

Laslow smiled, because he always did. "I appreciate it. I'll keep that in mind."

"Then you may go." Xander let out a massive sigh. "I have maps to attend to."

"Cheer up, friend," Laslow said, more of his false cheer returning. "At least the maps won't all be asking you about last night."

Xander snorted in a decidedly un-regal fashion. "True!"

Laslow ducked out of Xander's tent and into the bright sunshine of the astral plane. He knew he ought to go to morning training, but after last night's nightmare, he wasn't sure he could face a sword right now, much less a sparring partner.

 _Did you ever feel this way, father? Devoid of purpose and deeply unsettled?_ Probably not, Laslow decided. His father had been so devoted to his lieges that he would even pick up pebbles (and once, while at the beach, seashells) to ensure they wouldn't trip.

Laslow was certainly a far cry from that level of devotion. _You won't even tell Lord Xander where you're from,_ said the unnecessarily cruel voice in his head (which, coincidentally, occasionally sounded a lot like Selena). _You won't even admit to your friends that you're homesick._

 _It feels like admitting defeat,_ Laslow told the voice as he strolled down the castle path. _We made the choice to come here, and we're going to deal with the consequences._ And besides, home wasn't home—not really. Without the ability to return to his time, there had been little to recommend staying in Ylisse. And answering questions from the baby Inigo as he grew up simply sounded like a headache.

The breeze kicked up again, bringing with it the scent of cherry blossoms and the berry patch in the southeastern corner. Laslow could just make out Lady Elise happily picking the day's crop. Effie and Arthur were supervising and occasionally pulling the young princess out of a bush.

He was just debating going to help her—it was certainly preferable to mining ore, especially since it appeared Niles had that duty today—when he heard a familiar voice call his name.

Laslow turned to see Selena striding towards him. "So are you in trouble?" she asked in lieu of a greeting.

"Selena, you're as charming as ever." Laslow beamed when she stuck her tongue out at him. "And no, it was just a misunderstanding about last night."

"Oh, I _heard_ about that," she said, a predatory smile stretching across her face. "Are you telling me you _didn't_ finally get some with that insane co-retainer of yours?"

Laslow huffed an annoyed breath. "You're obnoxious."

"You know you love me. But seriously, with all that noise, what else could have possibly been going on in there?"

Laslow first glanced over one shoulder, then the other (with a slight turn to get around that damnable shoulder pauldron). "I just had a bloody nightmare. It's nothing for everyone to get so worked up about."

Selena's demeanor shifted, just a tad. "You too, huh?" she said, more quietly and with less bite than she typically did.

Laslow wondered how he could have missed the dark circles under her eyes this morning. "You as well?"

Selena nodded. "Turns out, we're three for three this morning."

Laslow couldn't help it: "Your mother would be so proud."

She scowled at him, and for a moment, the world seemed normal again. Some things, after all, never changed. "Listen, you ass," she said. "After you left, Odin and I decided that tonight is an excellent night to go into town. You should come."

A drink sounded like _exactly_ what Laslow needed. "Count on it."


	3. Chapter 3

"And _then,"_ said a very intoxicated Selena later that night, "Brady just goes, 'Aw, shucks, Ma, I didn't know it was important!"

Both Odin and Laslow howled with laughter, to the point that several other tables looked up from their drinks in concern.

The tavern they'd chosen was a little hole in the wall, mostly full of townspeople but also the occasional interloper from Lady Corrin's astral plane hideout. In the firelight, amongst friends and with a cold pint of fresh ale, Laslow could almost shake the chill of seeing his friends and colleagues dead in his dreams. Peri in particular was burned into his eyelids, being his usual battle partner and all.

"Oh, oh, I have a stupendous one!" Odin exclaimed, his eyes blinking one slightly after the other. "Once, after her mother supposedly cursed her, Noire was so completely terrified, she couldn't shoot straight! Not even this fell hand…" At this point, Odin flapped about the appendage in question. "…could save the both of us in battle!"

"She passed out, didn't she?" Laslow asked, grinning into his tankard.

"Verily," said Odin, taking a ferocious drink from his own mug.

Selena was laughing so hard, she had to wipe tears from her eyes. "Are you still on about that 'fell hand' business? I thought you dropped that when you switched to tomes."

"On about?" Odin cried, clutching his right hand to his chest. " _On about?_ My dear woman, there is nothing to be _on about._ This is my _life,_ and the darkness coursing through me!" He turned to Laslow. "Can you believe her, my dear arch rival Laslow… of the Azure Sky?"

"Certainly not!" Laslow replied, just as theatrically. "Why, I've not seen such disbelief since I mastered Sacred Dance of the Mystic Blades."

Odin gasped so loudly, Selena rolled her eyes. "No… I've not seen such a secret technique in all my years! How can this be?"

"How do you stand this?" Selena said across the table to Laslow.

"I was once a student of the great Hyoo-Moring Yor Frends." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Selena cackled so heartily, she began coughing. When she went to drink from her mug, she discovered it was empty. With a huff, she got to her feet and stomped off in the direction of the bar, still coughing into her glove.

"Why do we spend time with her?" Odin asked.

"Something about homesickness and familiarity, I would imagine," said Laslow.

"I genuinely like her, too."

Laslow clinked his tankard against Odin's in agreement.

"It's rather nice to know someone who truly, deeply, and genuinely," began Odin, "does not give a _shit_ about you and your feelings."

Laslow smirked. "Like Niles."

Odin's eyes widened, and he laughed so hard he struggled to breathe. "Like _Niles!_ Like Naga-damned, no good _fucking Niles!"_

"Whoa, now!" Laslow quirked an eyebrow. "What did Niles do this time?"

"He…" Here, Odin hiccupped so mightily, Laslow was rather reminded of the time Beruka's dear wyvern had caught cold. "…insulted the name of my glorious magic tome!"

" _No,"_ said Laslow, equal parts sarcastic and serious.

"I know! What the hell is funny about 'the Scarlet Tide?'"

Laslow spat out the sip of ale he'd just taken. "I'm sorry, I must not have heard you proper, because the Odin _I_ know wouldn't be questioning that."

"It's a scarlet spellbook that enlists the raging ocean tides to smother someone's soul! The name makes perfect sense!"

"Owain, it's a euphemism!"

"For what?"

Laslow stared at him for a moment, but before he could say anything, Selena returned, thumping her pewter tankard back onto the table, alongside a plate of toasted bread topped with melted cheese. Both Laslow and Odin looked to her questioningly, but Selena just shrugged. "I think the bartender thought I was cute."

"Or just wanted you to shut up," Odin pointed out, taking a piece of toast.

Selena thumped him across the back of the head as she sat down. "So, what did I miss?"

"Inigo was just telling me that _apparently…"_ Odin leaned into the word, making clear just what he thought of what he was about to say. "…'The Scarlet Tide' is a euphemism for something, HOWEVER—"

"It's the menstrual cycle, you ass!"

Ordinarily, Odin's shocked face was hilarious, but drunkenly, the drop from haughty to appalled was enough to send Laslow into conniptions.

"Perhaps… perhaps Niles had a point," Odin said weakly, which of course only made Laslow laugh even harder.

Selena rolled her eyes. "Honestly, what would the two of you do without me?"

"Certainly not like my fantastic names more," Odin muttered into his tankard.

Just then, the fiddler in the corner changed tunes to something that almost sounded familiar. Laslow felt himself grin, and was miraculously steady as he got to his feet. "Where are you going?" Selena asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"You," Laslow proclaimed, taking her by the arm, "are going to dance with me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Selena protested as Odin began howling, all previous insults forgotten. "I do not dance!"

"Well I'm certainly not dancing with Owain, so come on, then."

Laslow half-led, half-dragged his old friend out to the clearing between the tables that passed for a dance floor. As the lively foxtrot got itself rolling, Laslow took Selena by the hand and the waist, and then let the music take him.

He tried not to think of how similar this felt to the beginning of his dream, and in his intoxicated state, Laslow almost managed it. Dancing was wonderfully freeing like that, even if Selena was both tripping over his feet and laughing at him at the same time.

"So, which girl of the week am I offending by falling all over you?" Selena playfully stuck out her tongue.

Laslow rolled his eyes. "You know as well as I do there's none. Thanks for that, though."

"Oh? It's not Peri?"Selena waggled her eyebrows at him in a comical interpretation of exactly what he'd done earlier.

Laslow made a face. "Why would it be Peri?"

"Oh, I don't know," Selena said airily, "maybe because of the way you're always looking at her?"

"What, like I'm mildly concerned she'll stab someone when I'm not looking?"

"Well, there's that," Selena conceded, the severity of the moment slightly undermined by the fact that she tripped—yet again—over Laslow's foot. It was a damn good thing he'd worn boots tonight, even if all three had agreed not to wear armor. "But there's also this, I don't know…" She paused, and then, somehow, softened. "Sort of like how Henry used to look at Lady Lissa."

Both Selena and Laslow looked to Odin, who was happily munching on more cheesy bread and ignoring the fact that some of it was stuck to his chin.

"With his eyes shut?" Laslow asked.

Selena hit him.

"Ow," Laslow said, rubbing his arm without losing step. "I take your point, but I don't agree with it."

"That's only because you're not the one watching yourself!"

"Well, what about you?" Laslow fired back. "You've been seen in the company of Lord Leo often enough!"

"We are playing chess," she said hotly, "and I'm gonna win!"

"Oh, of course you are. And the fact that he's one of the princes of Nohr has absolutely nothing to do with it?"

"No!" Selena said, somehow inexplicably better at dancing when she wasn't focusing on her feet. "Okay, maybe," she amended. "But haven't you seen his hair? He wears a _headband_ for Naga's sake!"

"By all accounts, so does Lord Xander, and that didn't stop you from—"

"We aren't talking about that!" Selena interrupted all in a rush, looking over her shoulder as if Xander were going to appear at any moment. "And besides, Xander wears a crown." Laslow smirked at her as the song ended.

They rejoined Odin at their table, and the dark mage happily pushed the slightly-congealed cheesy bread over to them.

"So what are the inconceivable odds," Odin began as his friends both took pieces of bread, "that all three of us had visions of terror from the depths of our souls on the very same night?"

Selena's eyes narrowed. "You bought this bread just so that we wouldn't leave when you asked that, didn't you?"

"Change not the question!"

Laslow sighed, and set down his uneaten piece of toast. "It's just a coincidence, Owain."

Odin clapped Laslow on the shoulder. The dancer-turned-mercenary gave a little start, but made no move to shake him off. "Once is accident, my fleet-footed friend. Twice…" He clapped his other arm around Selena's shoulders. She attempted to shy away, but Odin's fell hand clamped down with a surprising amount of force, given how drunk he was at this point in the evening. "…is coincidence, but three times?" Odin jerked his chin downwards, indicating himself. "Now that is a pattern."

"Well, what was yours about?" Selena barked.

Some of Odin's exuberance dimmed. "I dreamed of my mother—her younger self, the one we left behind. She had her trusty heal staff and she… she…" Odin took his hands back, shrinking in on himself even as he spoke.

Laslow was almost afraid of the answer, but he had to ask: "Was it the Risen?"

Odin nodded, something both dark and far away in his eyes.

"I suppose we don't have to ask what yours was about," Selena said, "do we, Inigo?"

Laslow tried to smile, but he couldn't get his face to work quite right. "It was here," he said. "The Risen attacked here." Selena's brow furrowed, and Odin's gasp was punctuated by several hiccups. "And you? What did you dream of?"

Selena stared down at her tankard, as if it held both the meaning of life and more beer. "I dreamt of my mother," she said after a moment. "I kept crying out and crying out, but I could never get her attention. She was always looking at _him_ instead."

"Your father?" Odin asked through a mouthful of bread.

Selena shook her head. "Chrom." She took a short, violent swig from her tankard, setting it down with more force than was strictly necessary. "And then the Grimleal showed up, with Robin at the head, and _Naga's breath,_ I couldn't tell if she was my friend or the one who summoned Grima…" Selena began to shake, sloshing ale all down her arm.

"Selena," Laslow said soothingly. She appeared not to have heard.

"Selena," Odin tried again, patting her back awkwardly.

Laslow gave up being nice. " _Severa!"_

Her head jerked up, and she met Laslow's gaze head-on.

"It wasn't real," Laslow said firmly. "Robin is still your friend, wherever she is."

"Still back home with _him_ , I'd imagine," the red-haired woman snapped.

"Severa, she's a mother, now," Odin tried to reason with her. "She has a little one to look after and cherish with everything in her bones."

"I know," Selena growled, getting to her feet. "But she left me, too."

"You wanted to come with us." Laslow stood up, as if even in his intoxicated state he could prevent her from leaving.

"I didn't have a choice!" Selena bellowed.

Several tables were staring at them again, but there was no power in heaven or earth that could keep the three Ylisseans quiet, now.

"And _you_ didn't either," she continued, her eyes narrowing, "if I recall."

Laslow looked down at his feet, for what was there to say to that?

"I propose a toast, then," Odin said, tugging at the hem of Selena's tunic and Laslow's sleeve.

Both mercenaries settled uneasily back into their chairs, and the other tables regretfully turned back to their drinks. "To what?" Selena snapped.

Odin raised his tankard, sloshing ale all down his front as he did so. "To us, to our parents, and to everything we left behind."

"I'll drink to that." Laslow raised his own mug to the level of his eyes.

When Selena didn't immediately follow suit, both men looked to her expectantly. She heaved a very put-upon sigh, and raised her own tankard. The three friends clanked glasses and then had an impromptu drinking contest when no one wanted to be the first to put down his or her tankard.

"So here's a question," Selena said to Laslow as Odin got up to grab the three of them yet another round. (They'd all lost count.) She leaned across the table conspiratorially. "If you could go home, would you?"

Laslow opened his mouth, and was surprised to discover that he didn't know the answer.

 **-)**

 **For those of you who commented as guests:**

 **Arson Lupine: Thanks for taking the time to leave your thoughts. I really appreciate it :)**


	4. Chapter 4

It was three incredibly hungover Ylissean expats who appeared at the retainers' table for breakfast the following morning.

"Good morning, fellow friends of justice!" Arthur boomed.

"Shh, Arthur," Selena ordered. "Not so loud."

"Aww, does the princess have a headache?" Niles jeered.

"You'll have one too if you don't shut it," she threatened.

Niles' good eye narrowed. "Oh, I dare you."

Selena opened her mouth to shoot off something else, but Effie effectively cut her off: "Enough! You're behaving like children."

Pissing Effie off first thing in the morning sort of took the fun out of verbal sparring, even for Niles, so everyone broke off into their own conversations, dutifully shoveling down porridge (sometimes with an extra handful of berries or dollop of honey).

"How are you feeling this morning, Lazzy?" Peri asked, giggling as if she already knew the answer.

"Oh, fine," he said, winking at her in the usual way. He was immensely pleased when she giggled harder. "I just love fencing with a migraine."

"You could come with me down to the stables?" she offered. "It's my turn to clean the stalls." She made a pouty face.

"Hmm," said Laslow jokingly, "incessant clanging or horse shit? I _will_ have to think about it."

Peri giggled. "Don't forget the wyvern dung."

"Oh! And wyvern dung!" Laslow said. "Well, how could I possibly say no to that? You, my fair lady, have a deal."

Selena shot him a meaningful look when they cleared out of the mess hall, and Laslow pretended not to see it.

The pair set out across the castle grounds in companionable silence, mostly in deference to Lalsow's headache. Peri gave Lilith a merry wave as they passed, while Laslow merely nodded a polite hello. A moment later, a harried-looking Lady Corrin burst out of the temple, barely stopping to say hello before pressing on.

"Does she seem stressed out to you?" Peri asked.

"Incredibly," said Laslow. "I have to wonder why."

"She hasn't seemed like herself lately," Peri said. "Normally when I burst into tears she'll make sure I'm okay, but the other day my mascara was running and my nose was dribbling and she didn't even ask why." Peri pulled her mouth to the one side, annoyed.

"That doesn't sound like our Lady Corrin," Laslow agreed, studying Corrin's retreating figure as she went. "What's gotten into her?"

"I don't know," Peri said. "But I'm worried. She's been spending a lot of time in Lord Xander's tent, too."

"To see Lord Xander or to talk about the war?"

Peri shot him a look. "I don't know. I just see her leave there a lot, especially after dark."

Laslow's first thought was that Niles would have a field day with this information, but his second thought was that nothing good could come of any combination of the Nohrian royals meeting in secret. (Or at the very least, private.)

-)

Mucking out all the horse (and wyvern) stalls went about as well as Laslow had expected, but at least it was blessedly quiet. The place might have stunk to high heaven, but by noon his headache had mostly dissipated, and by midafternoon he almost felt like himself again.

Unfortunately, with the use of his brain came his memories of last night. _If you could go home, would you?_ Selena had asked.

Up until the exact moment she had asked him, Laslow had always assumed his answer to that question would be 'yes.' And he fully intended to return to Ylisse at some point in the future, hopefully when the baby Inigo was old enough to understand who he was. He would like to see his parents again at some point, to see Robin and Chrom and the Lucina from his time.

But when Selena had outright asked him that, Laslow found that he couldn't answer just a straight "Yes." And maybe it was because there was a war going on that he was rather involved with, or maybe it was that he knew Lord Xander counted on him and Laslow was no deserter, or maybe it was that Selena and Odin were here and he wouldn't desert them, either.

All of those sounded like part of the truth, but none of them quite struck at the heart of it.

"Peri," Laslow said, pausing in shoveling fresh hay into one of the stalls, "do you ever think about what you'll do after the war?"

Peri stuck her shovel into the ground at an angle she could lean on. "I'd keep working for Lord Xander, of course. He's the best."

"Have you never thought of returning home? To your family's mansion?"

"Oh." Peri worried her lower lip for a moment in thought. "I guess I could, but I don't really want to."

"Why not?"

Peri shrugged. "It's just my daddy there, now. He says it's too hard to find servants anymore, no matter how much he offers to pay, even though… even though I…"

Laslow knew the signs, alright, but he was powerless to stop them. "Peri, it's alright. There's no need to—"

She inadvertently interrupted him when she burst into tears.

 _Now you've done it,_ Laslow berated himself. Already, Peri's mascara was running and she was shaking like a scared animal, clearly about to bolt. "Hush, Peri," Laslow said softly, taking quiet, cautious steps toward her. "It's alright."

"B-but it's because of _me!"_ she sobbed. "My daddy is all alone because of _me!"_

Laslow winced, but his voice remained calm. "How could you have known? You were only a child—"

"I was a monster!" Peri shrieked. A few of the birds in the rafters were startled into flight. "I was a tiny, evil doll— _and I still am."_

"No, you aren't," Laslow said firmly.

"Yuh-huh! Even Lord Xander thinks so."

Laslow seriously doubted that. He drew in a deep breath, and immediately wished he hadn't. The horse stink was wretched. "Well, I don't."

Peri blinked at him for a moment, agog. "You don't?" she asked, sounding very small.

Laslow shook his head carefully. "No, I don't."

Peri's eyes narrowed, although she was still crying. "You told me I was horrible."

"No," Laslow said patiently, "I said that killing people who had done nothing to wrong you was horrible."

"And that their loved ones would miss them," Peri said quietly, almost too much so to hear.

Laslow tried to smile, like he always did, but his face wouldn't work quite right. More and more, he'd noticed, it was getting to be a challenge to smile at everything anymore. "So you remember that, do you?"

"'Course," said Peri. "That's when everything got all complicated. And when Lord Xander said…" She sniffed loudly, and Laslow went searching for his handkerchief almost without thought. "…When Lord Xander said that I should talk to somebody about everything."

"And you did, right?" Laslow wasn't quite sure when it had happened, but Peri was suddenly standing within arm's reach. He could see each individual tear still clinging to her eyelashes.

She bobbed her head up and down a few times. "Yep, right until we had to go to war."

Laslow felt his chest tighten. How many times had he heard _that,_ he wondered? _I had something good, something to help me, something to heal me—and then I had to go to war._

"Laslow? Are you crying?"

He smiled—for real, this time. "No, Peri, I think that's you."

"Oh," she said, with a little laugh. "Real tears. They happen more often now, since Lord Xander made me go talk to the nice doctor-man."

"Was that helping?" Laslow asked.

"Sometimes. Other times it just made me feel bad." Peri wouldn't look at him. "Sometimes I'd leave his office and just want to curl up under my covers and cry—really cry, like this." She gestured to her face. "Especially…" She stopped.

"Especially when?" Laslow prompted, leaning to the side a bit in an admittedly futile attempt to get her to look at him.

Peri rocked onto her toes and back. "When he'd make me talk about my mommy."

"That can't have been easy."

"Oh, right," Peri said, startling Laslow with how quickly she looked back up at him. "I forgot. You miss your mommy, too."

"Every day," Laslow said, any hope of false cheer gone. "We're a matched set, you and I."

Peri just studied him for a long moment, as though seeing him for the first time. Something in Laslow's gut twisted and tightened, and he wasn't sure if he felt the need to put a lot more distance between them, or a lot less.

And that's about when Odin walked in main door.

"Laslow? Peri? Selena said you'd be in—oh!"

It was hard to tell who was more embarrassed—Laslow, or Odin. The dark mage had averted his eyes as if he'd walked in on someone changing clothes, and Laslow felt his face practically erupt.

"I, um, didn't mean to intrude," Odin said weakly.

"Did you need Laslow for something, Odin?" Peri asked.

Odin chanced a look through his fingers, and then straightened up. "The royal family wanted to see Laslow, Selena, and me as soon as possible."

Laslow looked down at himself. He was covered in mud and shit and Naga knew what else. "Can I change?"

"I don't think so," Odin said apologetically.

"Dammit," Laslow muttered, looking about for his sword. "I'm sorry, Peri. I'll make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it," she said, sounding more hoarse than usual. "I don't want everyone to see me like this, anyway."

"People see you overflowing with sorrow all the time," Odin pointed out.

"No, they don't," Peri said quietly, picking her shovel back up again. "It just looks like it."

"Oh," said Odin. "Well, now that I've thoroughly made an ass of myself—come on, Laslow. Let's get this over with."

"Is this about last night?" Laslow asked, buckling his swordbelt back over his hips.

"Can't imagine what else."

"Good luck!" Peri called after them in a childish singsong.

"Thank you kindly," said Laslow. "We'll probably need it."

-)

 **To those without PM:**

 **Melpa31: Thanks for taking the time to review! I'm glad you're enjoying it**

 **Alina: Thanks for taking the time to review! Character interaction is sort of my specialty. (Well that and dialogue)**


	5. Chapter 5

Laslow and Odin met up with an ashen-faced Selena outside of Lord Xander's tent. "Do you think someone from town complained?" Selena asked, twisting one of her pigtails.

"I didn't flirt with _anyone_ last night!" Laslow protested.

"And we were no more boisterous than the rest of the tavern," Odin said, stroking his chin in thought. "We even made sure not to get involved with the fisticuffs!"

"Enter!" called a voice from within that sounded suspiciously like Lord Xander himself.

All three Ylissean expats steeled themselves, took a deep breath, and ducked under the tent flap.

There were six of them already there. Lord Xander stood, as ever, at his war table, blond hair gleaming in the candlelight. Beside him was Lady Corrin, her deep blue hair in complete disarray and dark circles under her eyes worthy of their own color distinction. On her other side was her older sister Lady Camilla, looking severe and stern as ever, her lilac hair free and unbound in such a way that almost drew more attention to the fact that Lady Corrin looks out of sorts.

Lord Leo stood beside his older brother, his boyish face furrowed deep in thought. He ran his fingers seemingly absentmindedly across the spine of his beloved spellbook, Brynhildr. Next to him was the little Lady Elise, whose ordinarily cheerful air seemed subdued somewhat by her older siblings' gravity. Even her blonde, twisted pigtails seemed to droop.

And Lady Azura stood off to the side, alone as ever. Nothing about her person moved—not even her veiled, light blue hair.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Xander said.

Laslow felt himself recoil, slightly. That didn't sound the beginning of an indictment. To his right, Odin and Selena were similarly confused. "Of course, Lord Xander," Laslow said smoothly. "We're at your service."

"Actually," said Corrin, "I called you here."

Now _this_ was interesting. "Same to you, milady."

Corrin smiled, faintly. "Recently, my brother has been receiving reports of villages all about both the astral plane and Nohr being attacked by these… _creatures."_ She shuddered. "We're at a complete loss as to what they are, or how to fight them.

"Now my siblings have also informed me that you three aren't from Nohr—or Hoshido." All three royal retainers began to fidget—Selena with her hair, Odin with his fell hand, and Laslow bouncing on the balls of his feet. "So please, I beg of you—if you've any information from your homelands that might help us…" Corrin seemed to struggle with the words she needed, and eventually threw up her hands. "…now's the bloody time."

"Just so we're clear," Laslow said after a moment, "this has nothing to do with last night?"

Corrin blinked. "Why, what happened last night?"

"Certainly not public intoxication," said Odin.

"Nope," said Laslow.

"Absolutely not," said Selena.

Despite the somber atmosphere, the royal siblings began to laugh, though some more so than others. "As I said to Laslow the other day," Xander began, "what consenting adults do in their own time is of no concern to us."

"Capital," said Odin. "What do you wish to know?"

"Anything you can tell us," Corrin said.

"Lady Corrin," Laslow began quietly, "these creatures you've mentioned—do they have red, glowing eyes, or a six-eyed insignia embroidered somewhere, like a sleeve or a collar?"

"Wha-uh." Corrin looked taken aback. "No, they don't. What an oddly specific question."

"Not if you're from where we're from," Selena said. At the sharp look Camilla sent her way, she hastily tacked on, "milady."

"The creatures she speaks of are purple," Xander supplied. "They look human from a distance, but up close what should be skin is just…" He made a hopeless gesture with his hand. "… _purple."_

"How peculiar," Odin muttered. "Purple people wishing doom upon us all?"

"How uncomfortably familiar," Selena muttered, folding her arms across her sternum.

Something in the corner of the room caught Laslow's attention. He glanced over to find Azura fidgeting with one of the ribbons on her dress. "Lady Azura," he said, putting on his most winning smile, "you seem as though there's something you're dying to say."

Something hard flashed her eyes, and Laslow felt his stomach clench. But it was over so quickly, Laslow could almost have sworn he imagined it.

"I believe," she said, "that I have seen these creatures before."

"Really?" Corrin said, shocked.

"Why didn't you _say_ something?" Xander demanded.

"I just realized it!" Azura put her hands up, as if to defend herself. "It was the day you received the Yato, Corrin. Do you remember?"

Corrin breathed in sharply, red eyes going wide. "The man that Ryoma fought."

Azura nodded grimly. "The one who nearly eviscerated the Crown Price of Hoshido, yes."

"He was that powerful?" Leo asked, brow furrowing deeper (something which Laslow would not have deemed possible a moment ago).

Azura nodded, and Camilla glanced to Xander. "Lord Ryoma is no pushover, Hoshidan or not," she said. "Perhaps we should hasten our investigation."

It was at that point that Elise, who had been oddly quiet for most of the conversation, piped up: "Do you think they'll attack here?"

"If they do, we'll be ready," Xander promised.

Laslow was uncomfortably reminded, yet again, of that damned nightmare. "You know, Lord Xander," he said, "doubling the guard might not be a bad idea."

"Right you are." Xander nodded to his retainer. "But I know that look in Corrin's eye. She has an idea."

Corrin smiled, offhandedly. "The start of one, anyway." She glanced back toward Selena, Odin, and Laslow. "If you've nothing else, you may go."

"Just one question, milady," Laslow said.

"I swear, if this is about tea," Corrin muttered, rubbing at her forehead.

Even Laslow had to laugh at that one. "No, Lady Corrin. I'm wondering what your plan to stop them is."

Corrin glanced to Xander, who gave her an indecipherable look. "I want to sort out a few more details before I announce it," Corrin said, glancing back toward Laslow. "But rest assured, I'm certain you and Peri will be amongst the first to know, when the time comes."

Laslow studied Lord Xander and his younger sister-that-wasn't for a long moment. "Fair enough," he said. "Thank you, milady."

-)

After a bath and a change of clothes, Laslow was feeling much more like his old self again as he headed to the mess hall for dinner. Compliments passed from his lips as easily as water, and Charlotte rolled her eyes and Nyx yelled at him, as was to be expected. All was beautifully normal.

The mess hall was alive and buzzing with gossip, as usual. "Where are they?" Laslow asked his fellow retainers as he took up his usual seat.

"Who?" Beruka asked, head turning sharply in his direction.

Laslow gestured to the empty head table. "The royal family, of course."

"They're all in Lord Xander's tent," Effie offered. "Felicia and Jakob just took them dinner a little while ago."

"What could possibly require the entirety of the royal family to plan?" Niles mused aloud, stabbing at a potato with a fork.

 _Corrin's plan,_ thought Laslow. "Who knows?" he said aloud.

"Maybe a wedding?" Selena said, her heart not exactly into it. "Lady Azura has been seen with that ninja, Kaze, often enough."

Just about everyone at the royal retainers' table turned to look over at the table where the Kaze was deep in conversation with Silas and Gunter. The Hoshidan ninja was usually very reserved and somewhere in Lady Corrin's vicinity, but at the moment, he seemed as relaxed as anyone.

"Aww," said Peri, "I love weddings."

"So has Lady Elise, though," Effie pointed out, without even glancing up from her meal.

"But Lady Elise is just playing hide-and-seek with the fellow!" Arthur protested. "She's too young for that sort of thing, Effie."

"Hide-and-seek with a ninja sounds like something Odin would name a spellbook," Selena announced with an eye roll.

A huge grin broke across Odin's face. "Selena! That's brilliant! I shall endeavor to find a most sharp-edged spellbook and début it in your honor."

It took a second, but then Niles began to laugh, and so did Laslow, and then Selena realized she'd been insulted, and reached over the table to slap Odin across the face. The dark mage ducked just in time, and Selena went crashing through several bits of cutlery and ceramic ware as she lost her balance. Effie blithely picked up her current plate of food, and Beruka just stared at her fellow retainer like she didn't quite know what to make of all this.

"See, this is why you really just have to let him be, love." Laslow chuckled, pulling his friend back into her seat.

"Never," Selena swore, chugging an entire glass of wine to hide how red her face was.

At some point, Jakob and Felicia reappeared with empty plates. Several of the nosier hangers-on tried to pry information out of the famously tight-lipped butler, but to no avail. The two servants disappeared back into the kitchen.

"You know," said Odin between mouthfuls of stew, "it really has been an exorbitant amount of time since we last had some sort of life bond ceremony around here."

"That's because no one's cared to get married since Effie and Arthur," Niles said bluntly. "They'd rather have the milk without buying the cow, yeah?"

"Heartless," said Beruka. "You're heartless."

"Oh, and you're one to talk?" Niles challenged.

Beruka calmly continued eating. "At least I remember my roots."

Laslow leaned over to whisper to Peri, "Looks like that rumor was true."

Peri giggled into her hand. "Maybe Lord Xander can uncomfortably tell them to keep it down next."

Laslow snorted as Beruka and Niles continued to bicker. "He _was_ rather uncomfortable, wasn't he?"

"Just like you," she said, elbowing Laslow in the ribs.

He winced, since she'd managed to find the one un-armored part of his gambeson. "I can only imagine who had the dubious honor of informing Lord Leo about manhood, since I doubt it was King Garon."

Peri's eyes went even wider, and across from Laslow, Odin began to laugh. "I can picture it now," said Odin, waving his hand about as if he were explaining a work of art in a museum. "Lord Leo's incredibly violet-and-gold bedroom, an excruciatingly uncomfortable teenaged Lord Xander sitting in the desk chair, and an utterly mortified slightly-younger-teenaged Lord Leo on his bed."

It was about that moment that moment that Jakob and Felicia reappeared from the back of the kitchen, the former balancing several pewter trays with ease, and the latter taking very careful steps with an entire porcelain tea set rattling about on the tray she carried.

"It could have been Jakob," Selena said, inserting herself into the conversation rather than listen to Beruka and Niles' escalating argument. Effie and Arthur were already trying to pull the bickering twosome apart.

"Wasn't he always with Lady Corrin, though?" Peri asked. "When would he have had the time to— _OUCH!"_

The last word was almost lost amidst an unearthly crash as Felicia dropped the entire tray she was holding, spraying Peri and Laslow with hot tea and sending shattered porcelain every which way.

"Oh my gods!" Felicia cried. "I'm so sorry! I swear, I drop every pot of tea I carry, but Jakob had his hands full, and I—"

But Laslow was no longer listening to her babbling. He was watching Peri's demeanor snap sharply from her usual childlike enthusiasm to something far deadlier. Her red eye narrowed, and she reached for the place on her back where her lance would usually be.

Almost without thinking, Laslow clamped down hard on Peri's lance-arm. "You are not at home," he hissed. "Felicia is not to blame."

"She should _pay,"_ Peri hissed, trying to yank her arm back, "with _blood!"_

Felicia's eyes widened to the size of tea saucers, and the whole room seemed to have gone silent, even Beruka and Niles. Peri gave up on getting her arm back, and for a moment, Laslow thought he'd won this round.

But then Peri somehow managed to get on her feet, balancing on those deadly heels. Laslow wrapped both arms around her middle and yanked her backwards. Peri struggled to free herself, scratching at any exposed skin with her long nails and attempting to bite at his upper arm.

"Felicia," Laslow barked, " _Go!"_

"Right away," she said, bobbing an awkward curtsey before bolting to the door, Jakob right behind her (still with a myriad of trays).

"Come on, Peri," Laslow said, somehow managing to get to his feet without releasing his hold on the cavalier. "We're leaving."

"How could you?" She shrieked, still trying to fight him even as he dodged her blows and tried to restrain her. "I thought we were _friends_ , Laslow! You were supposed to _get it!_ How could you let her go? It's all your fault! I hate your stupid guts, you asshole!"

She continued to heap abuse on him as he dragged her out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Laslow half led, half dragged Peri through the war camp. Most everyone who hadn't been in the mess hall physically stopped what they were doing to stare at the Crown Prince's retainers who were clearly in the midst of a fight. The fact that no one offered to help him or stopped him to ask where he was taking a clearly unwilling woman, led Laslow to believe three things:

1\. Rumor spread even more quickly than he'd originally thought around here.

2\. His reputation for being a failed lady-killer was even more prominent than he thought it was.

3\. So was Peri's reputation for being an absolute terror.

There was only one place that everyone (and the woman herself) would be safe from Peri's ire, and that was the forest.

And so Laslow continued to lead her out into the cool darkness of the astral plane. He shut his heart to the insults and pressed on. Peri didn't stop trying to free herself until she'd worn Laslow's hands bloody.

By the time he found a clearing to set her down in, the shrieking had mercifully stopped. Peri sat on a half-rotted stump of a log in the rising darkness, her arms folded across her chest, glaring at him

Not the sort of "Shut up before you make an ass of yourself" glare that Selena gave him almost daily, nor the "I really want to tell you to piss off" glare he got when flirting sometimes, but a true, honest-to-Naga _glare,_ full of hatred and unspoken violence.

He was surprised at how much it made his heart twist.

"Peri," Laslow said, still feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him, "you know killing is wrong."

"I don't care," she snarled. "I hate you."

They were the words of a petulant child, but they stung to his very core. "Felicia is your friend," he tried, a tinge of desperation in his voice. "She would never hurt you on purpose."

"She's a stupid servant, and stupid servants are only good for blood."

There was no use talking to her when she got like this, when she retreated so far into herself that nothing could pierce her ironclad, mad defense. But there was one more thing he had to try:

"She didn't kill your mother, Peri."

She came at him so quickly and with such force that Laslow didn't even have the chance to _think_ about bracing himself. She tackled him to the ground, eyes wild and hair falling out of her careful pigtails. Laslow hit the dirt so hard, he saw stars.

"You don't know _anything,"_ she snarled, right in his face, "not a damn thing!"

"Get off of me," Laslow barked, trying to throw her off.

"No!" Peri shouted, pressing down on his abdomen with all of her weight.

Laslow let out a startled "Oof!" and his abdomen spasmed. "Peri," he coughed, the wind well and truly gone from his lungs. "Get _off!"_

"Why did you stop me?" Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes, neither wholly real nor wholly crocodile. "Why didn't you just let me kill her?"

"You'd regret it," Laslow managed.

" _What loved ones does she have that I don't?"_ Peri snarled, pressing on Laslow's throat.

"Peri… can't… breathe…"

"You don't understand," she hissed, seeming not to have heard. "Nobody ever understands. But he's still _here,_ don't you get it? The one who killed my mommy is still here. He could be anywhere, hiding in anyone's clothes." Her eyes widened and she cocked her head at a truly unsightly angle to look at him. "He could be _you."_

Laslow made a snap decision, possibly born out of oxygen-deprived delirium. "My name… is Inigo," he gasped out. "I'm… your... your…"

"PERI OF HOUSE DORMAND, AS CROWN PRINCE OF NOHR, I ORDER YOU TO STAND DOWN!"

Peri leapt off of Laslow like she'd been singed.

"Restrain her," Xander ordered Leo quietly, sheathing Siegfried and sliding off his horse.

The younger of the two lords strode forward with a length of rope in his hands. His face belied nothing. "This is for your own good, Peri."

Peri was too preoccupied with staring at Laslow's inert body to fight Leo or his rope knots. "Why won't he get up?" she asked, sounding very small.

"That," said Xander, crouching down beside his other retainer, "is a very good question."

"He'll get up, right?" Peri asked, urgency leaking into her voice.

"I don't know, Peri," Xander said, a bit more sharply than usual.

He pressed two fingers to the major vein in Laslow's neck, focusing intently. Peri began to weep softly as Xander looked for a pulse somewhere, anywhere, on his dear friend and loyal retainer's body.

"Leo," Xander said urgently, "a mirror?"

Leo checked all of his pockets twice, and then shook his head. "The _one_ time we don't bring Camilla."

"This isn't funny," Xander snapped, and both Peri and Leo recoiled.

"Sorry," Leo said, offhand, although he couldn't help but think that if Elise or Corrin had said it, his older brother would simply have agreed.

Xander put his ear right up to Laslow's mouth, listening for breath and/or waiting to feel some rush of air or warmth.

Several long, horrifying moments passed, stretching off into eternity.

Leo began to pace back and forth, a nervous habit he'd picked up somewhere along the line. Xander remained frozen over Laslow's body, waiting for something that seemed less likely with each passing moment. But Peri just stared, wide-eyed and horrified, tears and mascara and gods knew what else running down her face.

And then Xander heard it—a short rattling of breath, so faint that he almost couldn't hear it over Peri's increasingly disturbing sobs.

His whole body sagged in relief. "He's breathing, but only just. Come on." Xander carefully picked up Laslow's ominously limp frame and settled him on his horse. "Leo, ride ahead with Peri. Send a healer to my tent, and then place Peri in one of the cells."

Leo nodded smartly. "Of course, big brother."

The whole way back, Peri couldn't take her eyes off Laslow.


	7. Chapter 7

Laslow awoke in an unfamiliar space, and not wearing his gambeson. He tried to sit up, and was greeted with the utter mutiny of his abdominal muscles.

A hand appeared on his shoulder. "Easy, easy," said a familiar voice. "Don't try to get up so quickly."

Laslow cracked open an eye, and it took a moment, but eventually it found a mark in a familiar head of wavy blond hair. "I feel..." Here, Laslow paused to cough a few times. "…as though I've been hit by a _wyvern."_

"That tackle was immaculate," Xander agreed. "If I weren't so concerned for your life, I might have complimented her form."

Laslow chuckled breathlessly, and then engaged in a minor power struggle with his body to get to his elbows. He drew himself up to a sitting position, and glanced about the room. He immediately noticed the war table and a set of black-and violet paladin armor neatly arrayed in the corner, and realized that not only had the Crown Prince given up sleep to watch over him, the man had given up his own bed.

And oh, did Xander ever _look_ like he needed both. Without his armor or even his iron circlet, the Crown Prince could have been any young man in Nohr, exhausted beyond belief. The circles under his eyes were dark as his sister's, if not more so.

"Felicia came to heal your wounds a few hours ago," Xander said. "She said to apologize for any residual bruising. Also that she is _very_ grateful you stepped in."

"Of course," Laslow said. "What sort of dashing mercenary would I be if I allowed a damsel in distress to, well, remain in distress?"

Xander made a show of looking over one shoulder, and then the other, before he executed a comically exaggerated eye roll, complete with hand gestures. "You must be fine." He got to his feet, and went to rummage about the chest at the foot of his cot for a moment.

"Have to keep up appearances," Laslow said airily. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the ladies."

Xander rolled his eyes—much less theatrically this time—as he set a bottle of whiskey and two goblets on the war table. "Whose daughter have you flirted with now?"

"A better question," Laslow said. "Whose daughter _haven't_ I flirted with now?" He flashed a dazzling grin that only made Xander laugh, albeit a bit offhandedly.

The Crown Prince settled back into his chair a moment later, and held one of the goblets out to Laslow, who took it, although his hand shook somewhat. They wordlessly clinked glasses, and both took a sip. The strong whiskey burned in a clean sort of way all the way down Laslow's throat, and it made his heart ache for the sort that Robin had preferred and they'd shared many a time.

"I say," Laslow said, setting his cup between his folded legs so that he could better hold onto it, "at this rate, I'll turn into a lush."

"I'll leave that to Odin and Selena," Xander said. "There's a slight bit of decorum involved with being the Crown Prince, you know."

They were both avoiding the issue, and they knew it. The silence seemed to stretch on for ages, and Xander got up to pour himself another glass well before Laslow was even partially through his.

Xander, apparently, needed that second glass to say what had been bubbling beneath the surface all evening: "It's been a while since we've had one of these nights."

"I know," Laslow agreed, staring into the depths of his cup and wondering if he was having trouble stomaching the whiskey due to his injuries, the night before, this conversation, or some combination of the three.

"She seemed to be getting better." Xander sounded frustrated.

"She needed to keep talking to someone."

"Damn this war," Xander muttered, draining the rest of his goblet again.

"Right though?" Laslow said, not really to anyone.

With a heavy sigh, Xander set his goblet back down on the war table. "By all rights, it should be you who decides her fate, Laslow."

The grey-haired man immediately shook his head. "Milord, I couldn't possibly."

"She didn't try to kill _me,"_ Xander said gently. "Even though I'll issue the order, I'd still like your input."

Laslow tried to sidestep the issue. "Have you gotten any sleep, milord? You're in a right state."

Xander's eyebrow rose in a way that would have been delicate, from anyone else. "I woke up this morning with two retainers, and had you not awoken, I would very well have gone to sleep tonight with none. So, no—how could I possibly have slept?" He smiled, just a little. "Don't avoid the question, Laslow."

Laslow let out a breath he hadn't realized he held (his abdomen did). "Who knows about what happened in the forest?"

"Myself and Leo," Xander said. "As well as whoever is on duty in the prison—one of my sisters, I believe."

"You put her in _prison?"_ Laslow practically shouted, although his lungs couldn't quite reach capacity.

"There was nowhere else, first of all," Xander said sharply. "Second, don't raise your voice to me."

"Apologies, milord," Laslow said, once again contemplating his cup. "Surprise got the better of me."

The anger faded from Xander's features. "That was unkind of me, and for that, I also apologize." He sighed. "And yes, Laslow, I had Leo bind her hands and place her in the prison." He held up a hand to cut off Laslow's protests before they began. "I did not, however, arrest her. And I'm certain no one would question the need for restraints or quarantine, after the scene in the mess hall. If it is your wish, Peri can of course remain in my service, and no one would be the wiser."

"Well there's certainly no need for an execution," Laslow said, trying and failing to bring about that false cheer of his. "I'm not dead, after all, and it would be such a shame to lose such a beautiful woman to her trauma."

"Oh, _enough,"_ Xander said, although he sounded amused. "I take your point, however. My only concern is that she will have another episode."

"We'll take them as they come," Laslow assured him. "Same way we always have."

"Fair enough." Xander got to his feet, glancing in the direction of his armor.

"Do you need help with that, milord?"

"For the love of the Dusk Dragon, you can't even sit up! There's no need for you to play at page-boy."

"As you wish." Laslow set his feet on the floor anyhow, and drew in a deep breath.

"You may remain, Laslow," Xander said, drawing a deep violet cloak over his shoulders. "There are plenty of places for me to sleep tonight besides here."

"Milord!" Laslow's jaw actually dropped. "I could never—"

"To put it bluntly, Laslow," Xander interrupted as gently as one could possibly interrupt, "I doubt I'll sleep tonight."

He nodded to his retainer once more, and ducked out under the tent flap.

-)

Xander felt decidedly naked without his armor. Although the trip to the prison wasn't particularly lengthy, he felt acutely aware of how easily one could run a sword or arrow right through him. He didn't even have the familiar weight of Siegfried at his side, although that was by design. The last thing he wanted was for someone to recognize him by the faint purple glow that edged the blade.

The second he stepped through the door, Camilla jumped out of her seat, leaving the steel axe she'd been sharpening on the table. "Will he live?"

"Peace, sister," Xander said, flipping down the hood on his cloak. "Laslow will undoubtedly make a full recovery."

"Good." Camilla visibly relaxed. "Apparently, the scene in the mess hall was atrocious."

Xander glanced over his sister's shoulder to the cells beyond. "I don't doubt it. How is Peri?"

"Quiet, now," Camilla said, folding her arms beneath her unfortunately large bust. "She's curled into a ball in the far corner of one of the cells, and has been for a while."

Xander nodded, already on the move. "Unlock it, would you kindly?"

Camilla caught her brother's arm in an iron-like grip. "Xander, _why_ do you keep her as a retainer? To appease the Dormands?" She snorted. "They have a lot to answer for; you needn't retain someone who imperils your safety."

Xander set one calloused hand over his sisters' equally rough one. "I don't worry for my safety in Peri's presence, and if Laslow sees no reason for me to release her, I don't either."

Camilla sighed, and let go of his arm. "Then I hope she won't be the death of you."

"She's in pain, Camilla, not mad."

"Are you certain?" Camilla asked, following her older brother into the cellblock proper.

"Laslow is."

"Oh, well then," Camilla said, throwing her hands up, "I suppose we'll leave the running of the country to Laslow, too? A man whose past we don't know how and can't even wring out of him? Beruka is more honest; _Niles_ is more honest!"

Xander whirled on his sister, his expression like flint. "I know you don't agree with me," he said, words like ice, "but this is unbecoming of you. Need I mention Laslow appeared alongside Selena?"

Camilla's eyes narrowed, the way they did when she swooped in for a kill in the heat of battle. "Would you trust her to guard Corrin?"

Xander stiffened. "I would trust Peri to lead our armies."

"That isn't what I asked."

"I believe Peri isn't beyond saving," Xander said, his voice little more than a fierce hiss. "I believe in the strength of her lance-arm, and I believe in Laslow's ability to balance her out. If I'm to be different than father, I need to believe in second chances."

"Second, sure," Camilla said, "but this is the fifteenth."

Xander blinked. "Have you been counting?"

Camilla smiled, just a little. "Of course not. But you haven't answered my question—which, I suppose, answers it for you."

Xander sighed, offering up a silent prayer to the Dusk Dragon that his sisters wouldn't be the death of him any more than his enemies. "It's yes, Camilla. Yes, I would trust Peri with not only my life, but with Corrin's, as well. Or Elise's. Or Leo's. Or yours."

Appeased for the moment, Camilla unfolded her arms and began sorting through the keyring for the one to Peri's cell. "Have you spoken with Corrin since—"

"Not tonight, sister," Xander said warningly as the tumbler clicked softly open.

"Will we _ever_ speak of this?"

"No," said Xander, suppressing a smile as he slipped past Camilla and into the dark cell beyond.

Xander approached Peri while making a concerted effort to remain quiet but sure-footed, so as not to startle her. Camilla had been correct that his retainer had curled herself into a ball and remained so for long enough that her sobs had died down, but he wondered what sort of state tonight had left her in. Despite his obvious trust in her, Xander was still wary of Peri when she got like this. Anyone would be.

"Peri?" Xander asked.

"Go 'way," Peri said, her voice muffled.

"You know I can't do that," Xander said, crouching beside her on the flagstones.

Peri lifted her head up, just a bit. One green eye fixed on her lord's face. Dried mascara streaked across her cheeks, and her eyes were red in a way that had nothing to do with heterochromia.

"Is Laslow okay?" she asked, her voice even raspier than usual.

"Yes," Xander said. "Come tomorrow morning, I'm sure he'll be right as rain."

"Good." Peri shut her eye again, thumping her head against the stone floor.

There was a long silence, during which Xander couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Is he mad at me?" Peri finally asked.

"I would imagine so. He swears he was tackled by a wyvern."

Peri whimpered softly, tears beginning to fall again. "I didn't mean to," she rasped. "I was just so angry, I couldn't… I couldn't…" Xander didn't fill in her sentence, as Laslow might have, thus forcing Peri to finish the thought. "…I couldn't see Laslow, I could just see _him."_

"Him?" Xander asked.

"You know," Peri insisted.

"I'm sorry, Peri, I haven't the faintest idea whom you mean."

"The one who killed my mommy." It was barely more than a whisper.

Xander had been working to keep his temper in check (because, tired or not, he had been furious with Peri), but at that moment, he felt something in him snap, and suddenly he understood Laslow's seemingly infinite patience with the woman. "You've never mentioned that to me," Xander said kindly. "Not in so many words, anyway."

Peri's sobs suddenly kicked up several decibels in volume. "You shouldn't be so nice to me, Lord Xander."

"Why ever not?"

Peri's fingers curled tightly into the hem of his vest. "Laslow was always nice to me, and I almost killed him." She opened that one green eye again, and this time, even more so than tears, it was full of pain. "Don't be nice to me, Lord Xander, _please."_


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning, Peri refused to speak to Laslow at breakfast, choosing instead to seat herself on the end of the table beside Beruka. She refused to practice with him in the sparring ring, and when Lord Xander called them in for the day's report, she didn't even look at him.

On the fourth day of this, Odin pulled him aside.

"Is the blue-haired she-devil mad at you?" Odin asked.

"I've no idea," Laslow said, somewhat helplessly. "She hasn't spoken to me since the other night. I can't get two words out of her, much less an answer."

"Hmm." Odin stroked his chin in thought. The effect was sort of lost due to his lack of beard. "Do you think Selena would have any ideas?"

Laslow threw up his hands. "At this point, I'm willing to try anything."

Odin visibly brightened. "Let's go see her, then. She's on duty this morning."

They found their red-haired friend examining her nails near the main gate. "Greetings, Selena the Moonborn!" Odin called.

"My dear," Laslow added with a shit-eating grin, "how are you on this lovely day?"

"Naga preserve me," Selena said with a massive sigh, "what the hell do you two want?"

"Well Selena," Odin said, throwing an arm around her shoulders (much to Selena's dismay), "it seems our dear friend Laslow is having some lady trouble."

"'Course he is—it's _Laslow."_ Selena glanced to the grey-haired man. "Who did you piss off now?"

"Apparently, Peri."

Selena blinked a few times. "Do you flirt with that maniac, too?"

"No more than anyone, and she usually just laughs. It's just… well…" Laslow kicked at a dirt clod near the gate as he struggled to come up with the words he needed. "She hasn't spoken to me since that night I stopped her from killing Felicia."

"Have you tried apologizing?" Selena said, getting invested despite herself.

"Twice!"

"Giving her something?"

"She wouldn't accept it."

"Getting Lord Xander involved?"

"He's no more idea than I do!"

Selena let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned," she said. "You're well and truly in the shit, ain't cha Laslow?"

He shot her a look. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Must make your job sort of awkward, eh?"

"Really, Selena, you could just say you don't have any ideas."

"I could try to speak to her, but I doubt she'd say much to me. Everyone knows we three are friends." She gestured between the three of them.

"Does the she-devil have any other kindred spirits with which Selena could speak?" Odin asked.

Laslow sighed. "Can you please just use her name?"

"I thought 'she-devil' was better than 'serial killer,'" Odin huffed.

"She talks to Beruka sometimes," Selena said quickly, cutting off Laslow's retort before he could even open his mouth. "I suppose I could see what Beruka knows, but she isn't very good with the whole 'feelings' thing."

"Shit," said Odin, "that reminds me. I'm supposed to be working on a spell for her."

"Why am I not—" Abruptly, Selena cut herself off when Laslow squeezed her hand.

"There," he hissed, gesturing toward the forest. "Do you see it?"

Selena squinted hard, putting one hand on the hilt of her sword. "I'm not sure I—oh!" There, amidst the trees, was a tiny flash of red amidst the green foliage.

The three of them moved at once. Laslow drew his sword and fell into stance, ignoring how his cut-up hands protested gripping steel. To his right, Selena drew her own blade, and fell into her own deceptively lax positioning. And Odin fell back behind the two, drawing a pocket spellbook from within the confines of his robes and twisting his right arm out in his usual spellcasting stance.

"Steady, now," Laslow murmured to his comrades. "Steady."

Two figures materialized out of seemingly nowhere just before them. They were two—one male, one female—and dressed as Hoshidan ninja—the man in a red _shozoku_ that was oddly about the same color as his hair, the woman in a purple one that left little to the imagination.

The man's voice was like the crunch of his boots on the gravel: "We come bearing a message from Lord Ryoma to his sister, Lady Corrin."

"And you expect us to believe that?" Selena barked, grip on her sword tightening.

"Belief is irrelevant," said the woman, "for it is the truth."

There was one thing Laslow couldn't wrap his head around. "How in Naga's name did you _get_ here?"

Both ninja shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "We followed someone," the woman finally said. "A little girl with pigtailed ringlets." She made a motion to illustrate, beside her own dark hair.

"Shit," bit off Selena.

"Will you let us through?" the man pressed.

"Like hell," Selena snarled, and shot forward, sword up in striking range.

Her sword clanged against a set of those funny ninja arm guards, but they belonged to neither the man nor the woman. Instead, Kaze had materialized between Selena and these unknown ninja, who were supposedly in service to the High Prince of Hoshido. Laslow couldn't help but notice that their ninja's _shozoku_ was green like his hair, in the manner of the man's, and his scarf was purple, like the woman's.

"Kaze, my friend," Laslow said lowly, "now would be a bad time to turn traitor."

"I know them," Kaze said coldly. "If they wanted to assassinate someone, this wouldn't be how they would do it. They must be telling the truth."

Selena and Odin exchanged a look, while Laslow just sighed. "Well," he said, "Lord Xander won't like this."

-)

And right he was.

The Crown Prince of Nohr ordinarily had a scowl furrowed deeper than the Bottomless Canyon, but it seemed to have deepened for this specific meeting. The rest of his siblings, as well as Lady Azura, had been pulled from their various duties and were arrayed in an intimidating and very Nohrian fashion.

They all stood in the mess hall, Lord Xander having deemed it less intimate than someone's tent or Corrin's treehouse. Both the foreign ninja had their hands bound, and Kaze, Odin, Selena, and Laslow were posted, half as guards, and half as witnesses, should the need arise.

"You stand before Xander, Crown Prince of Nohr." His voice resonated throughout the tiled space. "Speak."

"I am Saizo the Fifth," said the red-haired man.

"And I am Kagero of the Chiyome clan," said the woman.

"We come bearing a message from Lord Ryoma, High Prince of Hoshido, for his sister, Lady Corrin," Saizo added.

"She stands there," Xander said, nodding toward where Corrin stood, just as stone-faced as her older brother. "Speak your message."

Saizo looked as though he wanted to protest, and so Kagero spoke in a flurry of words: "There have been attacks on Hoshido's people by these mysterious purple… creatures."

Already, the entire royal family stiffened, but Kagero was nowhere near finished.

"Rumor has it that Nohr has also had similar attacks, and so Lord Ryoma offers a solution. He believes he has tracked the source of these creatures to a remote mountain village near the Hoshido-Nohr border. He proposes a temporary truce so that both he and his siblings, and you and yours, Lady Corrin, might stop this mutual threat."

"And we're simply meant to take your word for it?" Xander asked.

"Ryoma is the only person I know more strung out on honor and duty than you are, Xander," Corrin said. "If he truly said this, he means it."

Xander shot Corrin an annoyed look, while several people tried to stifle their laughter.

"If I may reach into my pocket," Saizo said, shaking his bound hands, "I have a letter."

Xander glanced from one end of the room to the other, ensuring that all of his beloved siblings were wearing their armor. Leo took a half step in front of Azura, whose customary white dress offered no protection from any sort of projectile. Xander's gaze lingered for a moment on Azura, "Cousin," he said, "could you recognize Lord Ryoma's handwriting?"

Azura considered it for a moment. "Yes, I believe so."

Xander looked back toward Saizo and Kagero. "Very well. You may remove the letter."

It took Saizo an absurd moment of twisting his hands beneath their rope binding and finding the correct angle to slip one into the confines of his _shozoku_ where it sat open on his chest. A moment later, he produced a small scroll, and twisted his hands back to more comfortably hold it out to Xander.

Xander strode forward and retrieved the scroll, sliding one gauntleted finger beneath the wax seal as he did so. He unrolled the paper and scanned it for a moment before passing it over to Azura.

The blue-haired woman studied the scroll for a long, tense moment.

Then, abruptly, Azura began to laugh. Leo looked to her with evident concern, but Azura just waved him off. "I'm sorry," she said, still laughing, "I'm sorry. I'm still thinking of the honor and duty comment."

Xander looked incredibly put out by all of his sisters, both blood-related and non-, when Corrin, Camilla, Azura, and Elise all burst into peals of laughter. Which of course, put a swift and decisive end to the tense, dignified atmosphere, which made Leo, Laslow, and Odin burst into laughter, and finally Xander gave up on all decorum and threw up his hands.

"But yes," Azura said, wiping tears out of her eyes, "this is Lord Ryoma's handwriting."

Xander scanned the letter more thoroughly now, and as the laughter died away, he glanced back up to his siblings. "Well, this says exactly what the ninja just said, albeit in more detail." Corrin was edging under his arm to get a closer look, and Xander looked surprised to find her there. He surrendered the paper without protest.

He instead trained his intense scowl on the two ninja. "You will remain in the mess hall while I pen a response to Lord Ryoma."

"Xander, the letter is addressed to me," Corrin said quietly.

"Then you can help me write and sign the end of it, but if he thinks I'm not getting involved in this, he's mad."

Saizo and Kagero both bristled, but they knew better than to insult foreign royalty to his face, wartime or not. "As you say, Lord Xander," Saizo said, somehow making it sound like an insult anyhow.

"Who is on duty in the mess today, anyone know?" Xander asked his siblings.

Laslow drew in a deep breath. "I think Peri, milord."

"Oh, excellent." Xander was relieved that someone actually competent was in the kitchen today. "Laslow, go fetch her to make the messengers something to eat. Kaze, Odin—" Both men straightened up at the sound of their names. "—you are to remain here and keep an eye on the messengers. They are not to leave the mess hall, and you may unbind their hands as soon as my siblings and I have left."

Both men nodded, and Kaze was fighting a smile. "Yes, Lord Xander," they said in offbeat unison.

"Selena," Xander called, "excellent work. You may return to your post."

Selena gave a startled curtsey—"Milord."—and disappeared out the main door.

"Everyone else," Xander said, already striding forward, "with me."

-)

After asking several people (not all of whom were helpful), Laslow managed to track down Peri to her tent, near his and Lord Xander's. Laslow found himself wishing that tents had doors, because he knew that Peri _had_ to hear him, and loud knocking would have helped.

"Peri!" he shouted again. "I have orders from Lord Xander!"

Finally— _finally_ —she popped her head out of the main tent flaps. She said nothing, her expression expectant.

Laslow was so surprised, it took him a moment to find his voice. "You're needed in the mess hall."

Peri nodded, and disappeared back inside the tent for a moment. She reappeared a moment later with her trusty lance strapped to her back, and set off in the direction of the mess hall without another word.

Laslow had to jog to keep up with her. "Peri, this has got to end."

"I don't need an escort," she snapped, walking even more quickly than she had been. If he weren't so annoyed, Laslow would have been impressed that she could keep up the pace in heels.

"Peri, dearest, what did I _do?"_

Peri froze, and Laslow nearly walked right into her.

"You didn't do anything," she said without looking at him. "I did."

Laslow blinked a few times. "Is this still about the other night? You know I've forgiven you for—"

"I haven't." She squeezed his arm, and Laslow winced as her nails dug into the soft skin of his forearm. "I have to keep you safe. It's only fair."

"I'm afraid I simply don't follow," Laslow said.

Peri looked at him as though he were dense. "If I don't see you, then you aren't there for me to hurt."

Laslow blinked a few times. Really, the child's logic there was impeccable, but as an adult—"Peri, that's ridiculous. Can't we just talk about it or something?"

She picked up walking again. "I've made up my mind, Laslow."

"Are you just determined to be stubborn about this?"

Peri nodded. "Yep."

"Augh!" Laslow glanced skyward, as if Naga could help him in this world.

His gaze jerked back down when Peri set a much more gentle hand on his forearm. "It's okay," she said, trying to blink something out of her red eye. "You still have Lord Xander and Odin and Selena. It's better if we aren't friends."

"No, it is not better!" Laslow stared at her in complete disbelief. "Peri, I..." He pulled up short.

 _Love you,_ the end of that was going to be. It was funny, really. All the times Selena had poked him for it, and Laslow had never noticed. He'd never noticed just how pretty his fellow retainer really was, just how much he missed her candid presence, her laughter, her smile, her touch, her… everything. Not until he was face-to-face with the fact that he might lose it.

By some minor miracle, Peri took his hesitance as something else entirely. "I need to get better before I can trust myself, Laslow," she said quietly.

"But why do you insist on going at it alone? Haven't you seen what that does to people?" _What it did to me,_ his brain filled in.

She knew, even without his saying. "You don't try to kill Odin and Selena when you get mad." They were right in front of the mess hall, but they could have been standing at the edge of the world.

Laslow was at a loss as to what to say. Peri patted his shoulder a few times, and then disappeared into the mess hall, leaving a tangled mess of emotions writhing inside Laslow's ribcage, thereabouts where his heart would be.

"Lazzy boy," Niles said, appearing out of seemingly nowhere and throwing an arm around Laslow's shoulders, "if I might offer a word of advice?"

Laslow blinked a few times at where Peri had just been standing. "And what would that be?" he asked tiredly.

"You're fucked."


	9. Chapter 9

A few days after the incident with Saizo and Kagero, Lord Xander called a war table meeting with all of his siblings and their retainers in the mess hall. He announced that not only were they going to go through with Ryoma's invitation—traps be damned—but also that they would need to be in disguise in order to delve so deep into Hoishidan territory.

Which was how Laslow and Selena ended up in Corrin's treehouse, alongside the woman herself and all of her Nohrian family, plus Azura.

"So are we just drawing lots to see who has to do this," Leo asked, "or what?"

"It's just the people who are readily identifiable by hair color," Selena said.

Camilla sighed, eyeing her lilac locks. "That would be me, then."

Selena nodded. "And Lord Xander."

"What?" said the Crown Prince.

"Everyone knows the Crown Prince is blond, big brother," Elise said, leaving the 'obviously' out of it. She was sitting atop Corrin's bed, swinging her legs back and forth since they didn't reach the floor.

"Leo is also blond," Xander pointed out.

"And not going to be mistaken for a six-two paladin," Corrin said with a laugh. "Come on, big brother. Are you afraid of a little hair dye?"

Xander grumbled something under his breath about little sisters and pulled off his iron circlet, setting it down on the small, circular table that served as Corrin's desk. "Is there another towel somewhere?"

"I only have the one," Corrin said apologetically, gesturing to Camilla, who already had a white bath towel strewn about her shoulders as Selena readied the brown hair dye in a bucket on the floor.

"You could always just take your shirt off," Laslow pointed out. "It's not as if you'd be indecent."

Xander glanced down to his white button-down, made another annoyed noise, and then pulled the damn thing over his head. "Pass me the hair dye," he muttered.

Selena scooped up the second bottle of deep brown hair dye and passed it over to Xander. "You could probably just dunk your head in once, Lord Xander. Lady Camilla has much more hair than you."

"Why do you have this much hair dye lying around, anyway?" Xander asked as Laslow brought over another bucket full of water.

Selena shrugged, tossing one red pigtail imperiously. "Habit."

"Is the red fake, then?" Leo asked, studying Selena's deft movements as she readied the mix.

Laslow laughed as he dumped a generous portion of dye into the bucket full of water. "No, that's the real one."

"Unfortunately," Selena confirmed. "Alright Lady Camilla, take a deep breath."

"Do your worst!" said the princess, and dunked the back of her head into the bucket.

Meanwhile, Corrin had undone her two customary buns and gathered all of her deep blue hair in one hand. She studied her reflection in the mirror for a long moment, and Laslow couldn't help but wonder what she saw.

"Laslow, Selena," Corrin said, "are either of you adept with scissors?"

"Laslow is," Selena said, scrubbing more brown dye into Camilla's hair, which was rapidly turning into brown sludge.

"Excellent." Without warning, Corrin sized the dagger that was ordinarily beneath her pillow, and sliced a clean line all the way through her waist-length hair. It fell to the floor like so many blue feathers.

"Corrin!" Camilla gasped, still with her head halfway in the bucket of hair dye.

"I was getting tired of all this, anyway," Corrin said, setting the dagger down. "Laslow, could you fix the edges, please?"

"Of course, milady." He flashed her a dazzling grin as he scooped up the communal scissors from the circular table. "Let's get that lovely face framed correctly, shall we?"

"How do you know how to cut hair, Laslow?" Elise asked, the only one still young enough to be unabashedly curious.

"My mother was a famous dancer," Laslow said patiently as he rounded up a chair for Corrin to sit on. "I used to help her get ready, sometimes."

"Would we know the name?" Azura asked from her position behind Elise. Although she was not accompanying her elder siblings on this venture, Elise had still wanted to feel included, and so had roped the songstress into braiding her hair.

"Probably not," Laslow said amidst the quiet snip of the scissors.

"She was famous in our homeland," Selena added, still scrubbing Camilla's hair.

"Selena, dear," Camilla said wincingly, "that hurts."

Selena immediately jerked her hands back as if singed. "Sorry." She set to her task again, with as much gentleness as she could possibly muster.

"So, Selena," Xander said, eyeing the bucket of brown dye with evident distaste, "do I just… stick my head in?"

"Backwards," Selena ordered, pointing to her liege's head, "like Lady Camilla. But hang on, because you'll need the towel as soon as you pull your head out."

Even as she said it, she pulled Camilla's hair out of dye-water. Selena deftly used the towel to catch most of the drips, squeezing them out onto the hardwood floor of Corrin's treehouse.

Camilla caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and began to laugh. "Oh, this won't do at all," she said, catching purple steaks of her hair in her hands.

Leo snickered. "You look like Elise, the first time she tried to put the purple in."

"You'll need to stick your head in again," Selena said, "but it'll go better if you let it dry a bit."

Camilla handed the now-damp (and browned) towel over to her older brother, who drew in a deep breath, and then dunked his own golden hair into the brown hair dye. Selena sidled over and began to scrub the dye into his roots, the same way she had for Camilla. Xander winced even more than Camilla had.

"Why do people do this for fun?" he muttered.

"It's just Selena, milord," Laslow said from his vantage point near Corrin's vanity. "She's… well, _Selena."_

"Hey!" Selena shouted, causing Leo and Azura both to wince.

Laslow placidly continued to even out Corrin's sudden chin-length bob. "I can assure you, dyeing one's hair needn't be painful."

"If you know how to dye hair," Elise began, "why is yours still grey?"

"Elise!" Xander barked, somehow still intimidating even with his head half-submerged in a bucket.

"Can you _please_ behave like the adult you technically are?" Leo asked.

Laslow paused in what he was doing to wink exaggeratedly at the youngest princess. "For all you know, my fair Lady Elise, my hair is actually pink."

"Like his mama's!" Selena said, cackling gleefully.

"How do you know she didn't dye hers, too?" Laslow riposted.

Selena wrinkled her nose in the way that Odin thought was adorable and Laslow thought just made her look sort of like a piglet. "Who has time to dye hair in a war camp?"

"We do," Camilla pointed out.

Selena laughed, just a little, before rosining up the towel. "Alright Lord Xander, heads up."

As deftly as she'd pulled Camilla's hair out of the other bucket, Selena slid the towel beneath the nape of Xander's neck and managed to work most of the drips out before they stained the wood flooring.

Camilla studied her newly-brunet older brother for a moment. "It suits you, I think," she said. "A tad more severe."

"There's no blond sticking out anywhere, is there?" Xander asked, ignoring the jab and trying to determine the answer himself.

"Doesn't look like it," Selena said, checking over her handiwork with a practiced eye.

"Oo, Corrin!" Elise squealed, diverting all attention over to the vanity. "You look so much _older!"_

Corrin nervously played with the newly shortened ends of her hair. "It doesn't look bad, does it?"

Camilla studied her for a moment with an equally critical eye. "It suits you, too. Doesn't it, Xander?"

He coughed. "Yes, it does."

Laslow's eyes narrowed as he studied his liege lord for a moment. Something was definitely off about him, the royal retainer decided. He would have to determine what; it would be a welcome change of pace from his own aching heart.

"Does no one care about my opinion?" Leo huffed.

"Nope," Camilla said, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

"Ow," Leo muttered, rubbing at the side of his face.

"I'm gonna miss you guys," Elise said, tears welling up on the corners of her eyes.

"We aren't leaving yet, darling," Camilla said, getting up to sit beside her on Corrin's green bedspread. She stroked her little sister's hair fondly, almost absentmindedly.

"With all due respect," Laslow said, "what are we waiting on?"

"Armor," said Xander. "Ours is a tad… recognizable."

"Ah," Laslow said, "going for something that screams 'For the Glory of Nohr' a tad less?"

Xander smiled faintly, while his siblings giggled. "Something like that."

A faint set of knocks came from the trapdoor, and Xander, being the closest, wrenched the thing open. A set of fluffy pink-and-blue pigtails appeared, followed by the rest of a certain cavalier, and Laslow suddenly felt something lodge in the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Peri said, scooting away from the trapdoor so that Xander could shut it again. "I had to finish up the dinner dishes."

"You were cooking," Leo said, "why were you doing the dishes?"

"Felicia was on dish duty."

The entire room winced, not the least of which was Laslow.

"Well," Xander said briskly, bringing his hands together with a resounding clap, "Peri, did you get your orders this morning?"

Peri blinked a few times, and then rasped, "Lord _Xander?"_

"I guess that answers whether the disguises work," Corrin muttered.

Peri reached out and then jerked her hand back several times, as if only by touching him could she confirm that Xander was still the same Xander. "What did you do?"

Xander cocked an eyebrow. "I, um, dyed it. Just now, actually."

Peri blinked at him a few more times before shaking her head, as if to clear it. "Do I have to dye my hair?"

"No, darling," Camilla said with a laugh. "You'll just have to cut off the ends."

Peri glanced to the pink ends of her pigtails. "Oh. That's not so bad."

"Come sit here, Peri," Corrin said, getting to her feet. "Laslow was just finishing up my haircut."

Peri seemed to notice that Xander was not the only one whose appearance was suddenly, drastically different. "Oh, _wow,_ Lady Corrin—you look so old!"

Corrin blinked a few times, red eyes unreadable. "Thanks, I think."

Peri settled herself on the chair that Corrin had just been sitting in, her back to Laslow but looking at him expectantly in the mirror. He felt his throat constrict. _I could kill Niles,_ Laslow thought, _I really could._

So he drummed up the same false cheer he'd always had. "You're going to need to take your hair down, Peri dear."

"Oh, right." Peri carefully untied the ribbons from one pigtail, and then the other, letting her hair come to rest more naturally around her face.

Laslow immediately regretted saying it, however, since not only did she smell of lavender soap and the faint hint of steel (as she always had), but also, he realized, "I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair down, Peri."

She shrugged, revealing nothing.

With a put-upon sigh, Laslow began snipping off the pink ends to Peri's blue hair—which actually turned out to be quite a bit of it. Laslow had never noticed just how much _hair_ she had, until the pink bits of it were sifting through his fingers. _Pink, like my mother's was pink,_ he couldn't help but think, _and like my daughter's might be, one day._

Xander was watching his two retainers with the sort of careful calculation that made him such an outstanding general. Corrin knew that look—hoo, did she know it _far_ too well—and would save them from her older brother's wrath. _Or worse,_ she thought, _his plotting._

"Peri," Corrin said, coming to sit beside the cavalier, "Laslow has mentioned that you're an excellent cook."

"Thank you, milady."

Corrin said nothing for a moment, waiting for Peri to tack anything on it. When nothing was forthcoming, Corrin glanced to Xander, who could only raise his eyebrows and shrug a little, as if to say, _I've no idea either._

Corrin's facial expression simultaneously narrowed and became more inviting. Xander knew that look—hoo, did he ever—and would save his retainers from his younger sister's plotting. _Or worse,_ he thought, _her good intentions._

But for once, the paladin was too slow—"Did you teach yourself, then?" Corrin asked.

"No." Peri trembled ever-so-slightly beneath the scissors. The whole room seemed to have quieted, hanging onto Corrin's transparent attempt to draw Peri back out of the shell she'd made for herself. "Well, sort of. My mommy was an amazing cook and I…" Peri faltered.

Almost without thinking, Laslow paused in his work to rub a few supportive circles into her back. Peri made a surprised noise, but didn't tell him to stop. She drew in a deep breath, and, without further prompting, continued, "I inherited her cookbook. I used it to teach myself."

Corrin reached out, and gently squeezed Peri's hand. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Peri shut her eyes, and would have hung her head, had Laslow not physically stopped her. "Thank you, Lady Corrin."

Xander had to marvel at Corrin's kind heart. What had taken everyone else years to latch on to had taken her a grand total of half of a conversation. How _did_ she do that?

"Well, Peri my dear," Laslow said after another moment, "unless you wish for me to thin out what's left, I do believe you're finished."

Peri looked at her reflection in the mirror, marveling as a child might at her sudden lack of hair. She twisted the ends around her fingers, giggling. "It's so _light,"_ she said, shaking her head.

She met Laslow's gaze in the mirror. He felt something heat up and fall through his stomach, and had to look away.

 **-)**

 **Shout out to Shadow152—you always make my day when your reviews pop up!**


	10. Chapter 10

The morning of their departure, Laslow, Xander, and Peri were awake and moving well before the sun.

Their new armor had arrived yesterday from the smithy—nondescript grey pauldrons and greaves, navy blue gambesons like Laslow's and Selena's embedded with star-like studs around the collarbone. It would have to be exchanged for more Hoshidan-style armor around the border, but for the moment, it would do.

Laslow had to help Xander with some of the hard-to-reach buckles on his new armor, and by the time the Crown Prince was suited up, Peri had appeared. She had drawn her newly-shortened, azure hair back into a single ponytail, and her trusty steel lance was strapped to her back. She, too, was wearing a nondescript, grey gambeson, like Laslow and Selena preferred, and without her usual heels, Laslow was surprised to find just how short the woman actually was.

Xander shouldered his knapsack and cast one last sweeping glance about the room. His gaze settled on his iron circlet, still sitting on his bedside table. It would be the first time he hadn't worn the thing into battle since his official coronation as Crown Prince, all those years ago. His forehead felt decidedly naked, his hair much more unruly.

"You should put that away, lord Xander," Laslow said quietly. "You wouldn't want it wandering off."

Xander swallowed over the growing lump in his throat. "Right."

Peri patted his arm consolingly as Xander carefully lifted the crown from its resting place. He crouched before the trunk sitting at the foot of his cot, and unlatched the lid. His usual black-and-violet armor was already nestled inside, along with some of his spare clothes and the half-empty bottle of whiskey from the other night. Xander tenderly wrapped his circlet in one of his spare undershirts, and set the lumpy package inside.

He latched the lid shut again, and got to his feet. "Shall we?"

They stepped from his tent, the Crown Prince and his dear retainers. But as they crossed the field to where Corrin was already waiting with Jakob and Felicia, they could have been any three mercenaries from any company you like, setting out on a mission.

"I'm impressed, my dear Lady Corrin," Laslow said the instant they were in earshot. "You managed to beat your older brother awake!"

Corrin made a face, and Xander made a spluttering noise that didn't quite make it to laughter. "You never fell asleep," he asked, "did you?"

Corrin shook her head, and as they came closer, Laslow could see she was holding a mug of steaming coffee between her hands. Beside her, Jakob held a coffee pot and many more ceramic mugs on a tray.

"You have my thanks, Jakob," Xander said, taking a mug.

"Don't think me, milord," Jakob said as he poured the steaming liquid into Xander's mug. "Thank your sister. It was her idea."

Xander turned to Corrin, who was hunched over her coffee mug and braced against the early morning chill. It was nothing like a Nohrian winter, of course, but it wasn't exactly pleasant, either. Xander drew his own cloak more tightly around him, partially to protect his coffee from immediately cooling.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" Xander asked softly, as Jakob turned to pour coffee for Laslow and Peri.

"Too much on my mind," Corrin said, not looking at him.

"Are you so worried for this mission?"

"Not exactly. Or, I guess, not entirely." Corrin was looking up at him now, and Xander felt his breath catch under the weight of that ruby gaze. "Are we doing the right thing, Xander?"

It was a struggle not to reach out and tuck the hair that had fallen in front of her eye behind her ear. He avoided temptation entirely by taking a sip of coffee. "I'm not sure I follow, little princess."

She smiled, but only just. "I believe Ryoma's intentions are honorable, but what if I'm wrong? What if I'm leading you and Camilla right into a trap?"

"Then we'll face it down as we always have, Corrin. You know that."

"And then you'll be fighting my other family, whom I would so dearly have loved to get to know." A diamond-like tear formed in the corner of her eye, glittering in the deep blue pre-dawn. "There's no winning here, Xander. Not unless I'm right."

"Then believe that you are," Xander said firmly, taking another swig of coffee. It wasn't Jakob's finest brew, but it would do. "There's no sense in worrying yourself over it. Either you're right, and we'll take care of this issue, or you aren't, and we still will. Be at peace, little princess." He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and squeezing her hand. His first thought was that he hoped it wasn't too forward, and the second was _you're being ridiculous; she considers herself your sister._ "I'm at your back."

Corrin smiled, a little more genuinely this time. "I don't know what I would do without you, Xander."

 _Nor I, you,_ he thought. "With luck, you'll never have to."

Meanwhile, Laslow was on his third cup of coffee and Peri was watching, mutely impressed. Jakob had already sent Felicia off to brew another pot, and looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or simply glad that someone liked his coffee that much.

"Oh, look," Peri said, "there's Lord Leo."

Laslow's head snapped up, and sure enough, he spotted Lord Leo (looking sedate as ever, even in a nightshirt and traveling cloak), Odin (who had of course been made to give up his usual V-necked yellow getup, much to his chagrin), and Niles (who looked much the same).

"Jakob, this is wonderful," Leo said, taking a newly-filled mug of coffee and wrapping his hands around it like a life preserver.

"Be still, my aching blood," Odin muttered, taking a mug, as well.

"I don't see Lady Camilla here yet," Niles observed, rolling his one good eye at Odin.

"Don't worry," Laslow said cheerfully, "I'm sure you wouldn't hear Beruka coming, anyhow."

"I usually don't," said Niles.

Leo spat out a full sip of coffee. Jakob jerked sideways just in time to avoid being sprayed with the hot liquid, his expression deeply annoyed. "Niles!" Leo exclaimed, still coughing.

"What? The woman is silent as the grave."

"That is enough for our dear liege lord's virgin ears!" Odin said, handing his mug off to Laslow (who noticed the motion just in time to catch it) and pressing both palms against Leo's ears.

"Ah, virgin." Niles made a popping sound with his tongue as Leo struggled to get out from Odin's grasp. "Well, there's your problem."

"I hate you," Leo said, his face violently red in the early morning light.

Peri was giggling. "It's okay, Lord Leo. It'll happen when the time comes."

"And you do," said Niles.

Leo hit him.

"Well, now," said a low contralto, "is the beginning of a war march, or a breakfast party?"

Laslow found his voice first. "Good morning, Lady Camilla! I must say, you're looking lovely today. Your new hair color suits you well."

And true, the deep brown suited her about as well as it did her older brother. Camilla had taken the time to pull all of her voluminous hair back into a braid, which curled over her shoulder like a Wyvern's tail. "Thank you, Laslow," she said, gracious even when unamused. "Jakob, dear, is there still coffee?"

Jakob shook his head regretfully. "I just sent Felicia for more, milady. She should be here momentarily."

Selena took a step closer to Odin and Laslow to hiss at the latter, "You drank all of it, didn't you?"

"Not all of it, my dove," Laslow protested.

"Just most of it," Odin filled in, handing Selena the remainder of his coffee.

She blinked in surprise, her hands catching the ceramic and immediately wrapping around the warm exterior. It was rare to catch Selena so completely off guard, but every once in a while, Odin managed it. "I don't need to drink yours, Odin," she said. "I mean, who knows what could be lurking in it now?"

Both Odin and Laslow saw right through her. "Drink your fill of the coarse black nectar of the gods," Odin said. "I can wait for Felicia."

"Why are you like this?" Selena asked, burying her nose in her mug. She didn't sound quite so annoyed as usual, though.

Camilla came over to where Corrin and Xander were standing. The former looked deeply pensive, and as ever, the latter simply looked concerned. "Is everyone here?" Camilla asked.

Xander did a quick head count. "Not quite. I also promised Elise the chance to say good-bye."

"Well, we certainly can't deprive her of that," Camilla said with a nod. "Besides, apparently Jakob sent for more coffee."

"That was a brilliant tactical move on your part, sister," Leo said, joining his older siblings.

Corrin blushed deeply pink. "It wasn't a tactical move," she mumbled, "I just wanted coffee and knew that everyone else would."

"My little sister is growing up," Camilla said, resisting the urge to pinch her cheeks. "She's become quite the hostess. I was impressed with how well you handled Laslow and Peri's… awkwardness, the other night." Camilla turned to Xander. "What is that, anyhow?"

Xander rubbed at the headache already blooming behind his eyes. "One part the Felicia incident, one part sexual tension, one part just how Peri is, I think."

"I don't envy your position," Camilla said.

"Yeah, I'd still take Niles over that," Leo said. "Also, Xander, who's missing?"

"Kaze." It was Corrin who answered instead of Xander. "And Azura said she would say good bye, as well."

"Gee," said Leo flatly, "I wonder where they are."

"Now Leo," said Camilla indulgently, "this family can only allow for one lovelorn sibling at a time."

Xander glanced at Camilla. "Your wyvern will be fine."

Corrin and Leo both started giggling, and Camilla was forced to admit, "Okay, that was a good one."

Shortly after that, Kaze and Azura appeared (thus confirming Leo's suspicions), and then Felicia arrived, carrying a fresh pot of coffee very carefully on a silver tray. Jakob immediately relieved her of her burden, and the assembled warriors breathed a collective sigh of relieve.

"Felicia, my dear," said Laslow as he plucked yet another cup of coffee from the tray, "I think I might love you."

Felicia giggled uncomfortably. "Um…" She glanced to Selena, who shrugged. "…thank you?"

"Pay him no mind," said Odin, taking a sip of his new cup of coffee with obvious relief. "He does this sort of thing." Behind him, Peri scowled, and Felicia shivered under the scrutiny.

"How long are we prepared to wait for Elise?" Camilla asked, blowing delicately across the surface of her coffee.

"How many tears and fits are you prepared to suffer upon our return?" Xander asked.

Camilla winced. "Fair point."

"I'll make sure she's alright while you're gone," Leo promised his older siblings. "You all just have to come back in once piece."

"Of course," Corrin promised. "Ryoma is nothing if not honorable."

"It's actually not Prince Ryoma I'm worried about," Leo mumbled, kicking at a rock near his foot.

"I have full faith in your ability to command the army in Corrin's and my absence," Xander said firmly.

"I'm not you, Xander," Leo said quietly.

Xander's heart twisted. This was not a conversation he wanted to revisit, particularly not first thing in the morning. "And thank goodness for that," Camilla interjected. "You might discover something our dear brother may have missed."

Leo opened his mouth to respond, but he never had the chance.

From across the courtyard, a short, blonde-haired figure was pelting across the way, trailed by two larger, incredibly put-upon figures. Elise didn't let up her pace until she was nearly upon her siblings, and crashed into Corrin with the force of a miniature stallion.

"Oof!" exclaimed Corrin, catching Elise in her arms just the same.

"I'm sorry big sister!" Elise said breathlessly, squeezing even more breath out of her draconic sister. "I overslept."

She let go of Corrin to hug Camilla just as fiercely. The wyvern rider smiled, and held her little sister tightly. "It's alright, dear."

Elise then crashed into Xander, who lifted her off her feet as he hugged her back. Elise giggled as she dangled in the air a moment, before Xander set her back down again. "No harm done," he assured her.

"Lady Elise, _please_ stop doing that!" Effie said as she and Arthur finally caught up to her.

"We simply can't protect you when you take off like that," Arthur said.

"I'm sorry," Elise said sheepishly, studying her feet. She had apparently just been roused from bed; her hair was a fuzzy blonde halo about her head and she wasn't wearing shoes of any sort. "I was just scared they'd leave without saying good bye."

"We would never," Corrin vowed. On either side of her, Xander and Camilla nodded gravely.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Xander began making the rounds. He counted heads, checked armor clasps, and inquired about supplies. They would leave their mounts behind—an unfortunate necessity—and as a result, everyone's knapsacks were full to bursting. There were ten of them, altogether, and as they set their coffee cups back down and ensured their cloaks were in place, they could have been any mid-tier mercenary band, heading off to war.

Leo and Elise stood by, watching their older siblings gear up for a fight they could not aid in. They clasped hands and arms and said their goodbyes, and as the ten set off in the pale rising dawn, Leo tried very hard not to think about the fact that if Xander and Camilla didn't come back, not only would he grieve them for the rest of his days, but he would suddenly become crown prince, a position he neither had been groomed for or wanted. He shivered, and drew his cloak more tightly around him.

Elise slipped her hand into his, the way she had when she was very little, as though she knew how dark he thoughts had become. Normally Leo would shake her off, and admonish her until she behaved more like an adult. But this morning, he let her.

And they stayed that way until well after their older siblings were no longer in view.


	11. Chapter 11

_Hiking_ , Laslow decided, _must be the gods' way of punishing humanity for all the wrongs ever done, in the history of eternity._

He might have said as much to Peri, once upon a time, but as things stood presently, he decided the thought was better kept to himself. Besides, however much Laslow was suffering, at least he was used to it. Peri and Lord Xander typically had their mounts.

They had been walking for several days, heading toward the Hoshidan border and their contact from the Hoshidan Royal Family's retinue. The forest was as thick and dark as any Laslow had ever encountered, and there was no end of biting insects.

"Lord Xander," Peri said at one point to their little cluster, "can I ask something?"

"Peri, for this mission we're trying to break everyone's habit of 'lord' this and 'lady' that," Xander reminded her. "But yes, you may."

Peri ducked her head sheepishly. "Why isn't Lord Leo coming with us?"

"I had thought he would as well," Laslow admitted.

Xander smiled, but it was rueful. "He was meant to." He ducked under a branch, and then continued. "But someone had to command the army in Corrin's and my absence, and for all I love Elise, command is not her forte."

"So he sent Odin and Niles in his place, then?" Laslow asked.

Xander nodded. "Precisely."

Camilla appeared in their midst, although Laslow had to do a double-take to confirm it was indeed the princess. He hadn't realized just how much he relied on the woman's purple hair and outlandish, black armor to identify her.

"Go over the plan with me again, one more time?" Camilla asked. "I want to make sure I have it."

Xander sighed, and rolled his shoulders under the weight of his grey armor. "We march for the border. Prince Ryoma has promised to send someone to meet us there, someone Corrin and Kaze will recognize. We are to exchange our armor through him, and he'll lead us back to where the Hoshidan royals and their retainers are. From there…" Xander paused to slap a particularly large mosquito that had bitten down on his forearm. "…we will all take care of this purple menace once and for all."

"And then return to war," Peri said brightly.

"And then return to war," Xander confirmed.

"And Leo and Elise," Camilla said quietly, and Xander quickly sobered even further than usual.

Laslow couldn't stand to see his lord and the lady Camilla so disheartened. "Cheer up," he said brightly. "You'll have plenty of stories to tell upon your return—and I'm certain that if you bring Lady Elise back something from Hoshido, she'll love you forever."

Camilla laughed, but Xander was not nearly so easily put off. "You may well be on to something, Laslow," the princess said.

Peri's brow furrowed. "Wouldn't Lady Elise love you both forever, anyway?"

Laslow sighed. "Peri, dear, that was the joke."

She scowled at him, and unbeknownst to the two retainers, Camilla and Xander exchanged a look indecipherable to everyone but themselves. "Are you well, sister?" Xander asked.

Camilla nodded. "Of course. And yourself?"

"Naturally."

Laslow got the vague sense that, even had the answers not been in the affirmative, they would be given that way, anyhow. A father like King Garon did not tolerate weakness of any sort. It was a miracle Elise was as kind as she was—to say nothing of Corrin.

Peri glanced to Laslow, and for the first time since the Felicia incident, spoke to him unbidden. "Does your back hurt?"

Laslow shrugged. "No more than usual, I should say. Why?"

"Mine does." Peri put a fist to the small of her back, trying to pop the tense muscles.

"Peri, darling," Camilla said, "don't take this the wrong way, but—how tightly did you wrap your breastband this morning?"

Peri looked to Camilla in surprise. "Um, the usual, I guess?"

Camilla nodded sagely. "You'll need to wrap it more tightly than that, if you're to be hiking instead of riding your horse. Your back probably aches simply because of your womanly endowments."

Laslow suddenly found it very warm in the border forest. He tugged at the collar of his gambeson a few times, as though it would help. How _did_ Lord Xander stand wearing a cravat in full battle dress? The very though suddenly seemed unbearable.

Camilla noticed his predicament, and smirked."I can show you later, if you like," she said to Peri.

"Thank you, Lady Camilla!"

Xander found it similarly warm in the forest, albeit for completely different reasons. "While I'm glad the answer was that simple," the Crown Prince began, the textbook likeness of 'discomfort,' "could you have had that conversation, I don't know, _anywhere else?"_

"Oh!" Peri clapped her hands to her mouth, whereas Camilla merely giggled. "I'm sorry Lord Xander, I didn't—"

"Oh, do loosen up, brother," Camilla interrupted, still laughing.

"We have _decorum,_ Camilla," Xander insisted, putting emphasis on the operative word by tapping the side of one hand into the other's palm. "It avoids _unpleasantness_ like this."

Unpleasant was certainly the word for it. Despite having served alongside her for years, and even helped her into her armor a time or two, Laslow had never really, well, _noticed_ his partner until this very moment. And now he found he could not stop _staring_. Her hands were so delicate, now that she had discarded her usual taloned gauntlets in favor of fingerless gloves, and simply wearing her hair back in a different way made her appear closer to her proper age. He wondered what that blue hair would feel like under his fingers again, and what those hands would feel like pressed against his bare skin.

Gods, he was going to get a lance through the ribs if he didn't recover his senses and stop fantasizing about any number of things Xander had accused them of the other night.

He managed to tear his eyes away as Camilla and Xander continued bickering. If nothing else, that would forever prove them siblings.

"Right, though?" Peri asked with a giggle, and Laslow realized he'd said that last bit out loud.

He found himself, for once, at a loss for words. He was reluctant to bring up this vow of avoidance she'd so stubbornly begun, as if calling the demon by its name would make it permanent, instead of able to be killed. He tried to think of something small, something innocent and innocuous. And then he realized, he'd never asked her:

"Have you any siblings, Peri?"

She shook her head, but didn't seem angry. _So far, so good,_ Laslow figured. "No, I don't. Probably for the best, though." She glanced to him, her visible, red eye unreadable. "Do you?"

Laslow shook his head. "No, but I did have cousins I grew up with." Never mind the semantics of Odin, Lucina, and Morgan not technically being blood. "I imagine it's sort of similar."

Something seemed to click in Peri's brain. "Is that Odin and Selena?"

"Just Odin, actually. Selena came later, when we all enlisted."

"Enlisted, huh," said Peri, and it wasn't a question. "You've never told me that."

Dammit! He'd said too much already. Damn Camilla for bringing bodies into the equation, and damn this woman for worming her way into his heart. Laslow knew he was being unkind, even in his mind, but he couldn't help it.

He couldn't help but glance over to where Odin and Selena were deep in conversation, at the head of the group. He recalled that, upon arrival in Nohr, Odin had been dreadful at remembering to use everyone's new names, and Selena had been even frostier than usual.

There was so much he wanted to tell her, and yet: "I don't much like to talk about it."

Peri harrumphed, and jutted her lower lip out in a pout. "Well, what _do_ you like to talk about?"

That answer came easily enough. "Poetry, dance, the art of war, the lovely features of the women in my company, dogs."

Peri rolled her eyes, but she giggled too, just a little. Laslow took it as progress.

-)

That night, after much bickering and wrestling with tents, they'd hunkered down to camp. That first night on the road, they had discovered that their group did not easily fit into two-man-tents, specifically because there were odd numbers of both sexes. Niles had, in his usual (read: lewd) fashion, suggested he and Beruka were perfectly capable of sharing a tent. The assassin had made no outward sign that she favored the proposal, but she hadn't outright rejected it, either.

Xander told them fine, just keep it down. Beruka had looked offended.

And so they had remained in pairs—some more intuitive than others—and, as humans are wont to do, remained there. And would remain for the entirety of the Hoshidan mission, out of ease more so than intention.

"Who has first watch, mi—Xander?" Laslow asked as he and Xander readied themselves for bed (such as it was).

Xander grinned. "Valiant attempt, Laslow. And Kaze, I believe."

Laslow nodded. "I suppose a ninja is as good a guard as any— _milord, your feet!"  
_ Xander had pulled off his boots to reveal huge, red blisters across both feet. Laslow's jaw had actually dropped at the sight. How much pain was _that_ causing, he wondered? It was a miracle Xander's gait hadn't given it away. Laslow tried to recall if the lord had been limping or something similar, but he doubted it.

"Why didn't you say something?" Laslow demanded.

"Because I'm fine," Xander said, with a self-conscious laugh. "They're blisters; it'll pass."

"Xander," Laslow said, trying to drum up the same sort of sternness the prince usually employed, "those can get infected."

Xander heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I'm taking care of it."

"With what?"

Xander held up the long stretch of cloth that had previously been wrapped around his foot. He gave it a little shake, for emphasis. Laslow could already see stains where the blisters had wept onto the cloth.

He folded his arms across his chest. "That's a start. Do you have a salve?"

"Where would I get one?" Xander asked, annoyance leaking into his voice. "It's not as if we have an apothecary lying around."

"Yes, we do!" Laslow said, heedless of contradicting the Crown Prince (a dangerous thing, indeed—though less so than contradicting his father). "Kaze dabbles in it."

"Do not bother the ninja!" Xander said at once. "He's on duty."

"With all due respect, sir," Laslow said, getting to his feet, "I doubt he'd care."

" _I_ care," Xander returned.

"And _I_ care about my lord not losing his feet," Laslow said firmly. "Did you know Odin nearly lost his feet to infected blisters, once? Ask him to tell you about it, sometime. He spares no detail."

A look of horror crossed Xander's severe facial features, though at the idea of losing his feet to infection, or being told a long-winded tale by Odin, Laslow had no idea. After a moment, Xander gave a long-suffering sigh. "Go," he said, waving Laslow off. "Be sure to give Kaze my apologies."

Laslow nodded—"Of course, Lord Xander."—and departed.

-)

The camp was quiet at this time of the evening, most everyone in it either asleep or trying to be. Corrin and Camilla were deep in conversation by the dying embers of the cook fire, heads bent low. Laslow took a moment to study the two sisters.

It was strange, to see Camilla so unguarded. Although the woman was, by all accounts, a perfectly compassionate and generous mistress, she was as stern as any Nohrian woman, and demanded excellence from her retainers. Selena bore it well, but was too often reminded of her mother. As she often told Laslow and Odin over drinks.

And Corrin was so kind and open in comparison to any of her siblings, except possibly Elise. It was no wonder Xander was fascinated by her; the man had, quite simply, never encountered anyone else so sincerely affectionate and unwilling to bend to decorum. She was the antithesis of everything Nohr valued (minus her battle prowess, of course), and unashamed of that fact.

"Why," said Laslow as he approached, "if it isn't the lovely Ladies Camilla and Corrin!"

Corrin giggled. "Hello, Laslow."

Camilla inclined her head only slightly. "Good evening," she said crisply.

His recent victory over Xander had made him bold—perhaps even a bit reckless. "My dear lady," Laslow said, putting a hand to his heart, "have I done something to offend?"

Camilla fixed him in a violet-eyed stare that rivaled her brother's. "Your flattery is empty, Laslow. I find it tiresome."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Laslow said. "I genuinely mean every compliment I hand out."

"So Selena has told me," Camilla said, turning back to Corrin. It rang of a dismissal.

Corrin, however, was still looking at him expectantly, her expression curious. "Did you need something, Laslow?"

"Yes, have either of you seen Kaze anywhere?"

"I think he's over that way." Corrin gestured vaguely to her left. "Did you need him for something?"

If Xander were brushing off his injuries, it probably meant he didn't want anyone to know about them, Laslow decided. "Nothing important." Laslow bowed slightly to the both of them—"My dear princesses."—and left in the direction Corrin had indicated.


	12. Chapter 12

**If you're looking for the soundtrack to this chapter, it's "The Devil & the Huntsman," from the King Arthur: Legend of the Sword OST.**

 **Carry on.**

-)

It didn't Laslow take long to track Kaze down.

He was sitting with his back to a tree trunk, legs folded across each other. Kaze kept a weather eye pinned to the horizon, in search of those purple creatures, assassins, and gods knew what else.

Laslow opened his mouth, but Kaze beat him to it: "Come to accuse me of something hateful, I take it?"

Laslow's mouth quirked into a smile. "And I'm to hate you for being a foreigner now, am I?"

Kaze snorted, and turned to look at Laslow. He studied him for a long moment, and then relented. "What can I do for you?"

"Rumor has it, you're an apothecary."

"Of a sort. I mostly dabble in poisons. Why?"

"Could you make something to ease blisters?"

A small smile crossed Kaze's face, and he glanced to Laslow's feet. "Boots wearing on you, are they?"

Laslow glanced down, and realized, rather belatedly, that he had never put his boots back on. He had simply left his and Xander's tent, elated at having finally won an argument with the man. _No wonder I felt so much lighter on the walk over._

"It isn't for me," Laslow said.

"Ah." Kaze studied Laslow's face a moment longer. "Must be Peri, then." Laslow didn't bother to correct him. "I can make a salve to aid in the healing of blisters, but I'd need my kit." Kaze glanced over Laslow's shoulder, back toward the camp.

"I can grab it for you. Wait right here."

-)

Twenty minutes later, Kaze was seated over small array of herbs. He worked methodically to crush this root and these leaves with a mortar and pestle, and threw them into the small cauldron bubbling over an open flame. The smell wasn't pleasant, exactly, but it wasn't awful—like campfire smoke, or the sweat of someone you're attracted to.

"Laslow, you are good friends with Odin, are you not?" Kaze asked at one point.

"We grew up like brothers," Laslow confirmed.

"Oh." Kaze's brow furrowed. "I didn't know."

Laslow grinned. "Were you going to ask me if he's always like that?"

"Actually," Kaze said as he stirred the sludge-like concoction with a long, thin copper rod, "I was going to ask who 'Lissa' was. He keeps murmuring her name in his sleep."

Laslow completely froze, from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. How much could he reveal? And how much would Odin—never mind Selena—throttle him for? And an even more chilling thought—what more would Odin give away in his sleep?

"Apologies," Kaze said at once, and with sincerity. "I see I've touched a nerve."

Laslow forced himself to relax, to breathe again. "It isn't my secret to tell."

"That's fair." Kaze stirred the mixture again, with increasing difficulty. Laslow wasn't entirely convinced that was a good thing. "It just seems like such a wound for the man; I would offer to help, if I could."

"Ask Odin, then," Laslow said. "Honestly, Selena and I could use the help in looking after him."

Kaze laughed, the sound open and clear like the clang of his shuriken. "And what of Selena? If you grew up with Odin as brothers, where did she come in?"

"If we're to be trading secrets," Laslow said cheerily, "you'll need to answer for some of your own."

Kaze inclined his head. "And I take you already know which?"

Laslow beamed. "Of course." He held out one scarred, calloused hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Kaze shook his head, but shook Laslow's hand anyway. "We do."

Laslow made a mock Hoshidan bow, and Kaze nearly snorted into the cauldron mixture. It was bubbling righteously, now. Laslow wondered how much left Kaze had to do with the thing, and if it were safe.

"Selena's mother, as well as my father, served Odin's uncle," Laslow said. "Odin and I grew up something like cousins, and Selena was the grumpy soldier's daughter we liked to tease whenever she came around. She didn't become a friend—not truly—until Odin, Selena, and I enlisted."

"I _thought_ you had some military service," Kaze said. "I wish I'd bet in the pool."

Laslow blinked a few times. "There was a betting pool on that?"

"Niles has pools about all sorts of things."

Laslow's eyes narrowed. "Now you're just being purposefully mysterious."

"Hardly," Kaze said. "I simply don't wish to lend Niles any more legitimacy than he's scraped together thus far."

"I don't think Niles is in any danger of legitimacy," Laslow said, "even if he doesn't know who his father is."

There was a pause, and then Kaze began laughing. "That was unkind," he tried to admonish.

Laslow shrugged. "It's not a secret. Though speaking of, here's the one you owe me—who was that man and the woman who showed up at the astral castle? You said you knew them."

All mirth drained from Kaze's facial expression. He cast his eyes downward as he struggled to stir the thick, greenish potion. He seemed to give up, and slid the copper rod out of the cauldron, laying it on its side in the dirt. He removed the cauldron from the heat, and set about turning off the flame.

"The woman was Kagero of the Chiyome Clan," Kaze said. "She is one of Prince Ryoma's retainers, and his trusted friend and ally. I knew her well."

"And the man?" Laslow pressed.

"Saizo the Fifth." The ninja's voice was barely above a whisper. "Prince Ryoma's other valued retainer." Kaze glanced up to Laslow, as if to gauge his reaction. "My twin brother."

Laslow pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes wide in horror. "But you still fight with us?"

Kaze nodded, blowing on the salve to help cool it off. "I knew the risks when I swore the oath to protect Lady Corrin."

Laslow felt his heart twist. "For what it's worth, I'm so sorry."

The corner of Kaze's mouth quirked. "Not enough to thread my family back together again, but thank you just the same." He pressed a small clay pot into Laslow's hands. "For Peri's blisters. Have her use it twice a day, if she can. The blisters should die down in a week, or so."

-)

On the other side of the camp, Beruka paced. Her tent lay empty, and she felt strangely off balance without her armor. Camilla had been trying to get her to sleep without it, and bit by bit, Beruka was trying—a gauntlet off here, a greave off there. All bets were meant to have been off in the wilderness, but Beruka had discovered on the first night out here that if she stubbornly held onto her old habits, she would drown in her own sweat and never catch a wink of sleep. And it would only get worse the closer they got to Hoshido.

On the second night, she had discovered something else entirely.

She had been meaning to catch Niles and speak with him privately, but instigating conversation was not Beruka's strong suit. And beyond that, the man had been damnably hard to pin down. And so she would stand in this damn heat all night if she had to, well after everyone else had gone to bed, until Niles finally came by to drop into his bedroll and sleep fitfully until dawn.

Beruka used to wonder where Niles went, after he quit her bed, or she quit his, but she knew better, now. If the man wasn't looking for somewhere to attempt to drink himself to death, he was roping a few poor sods into gambling with him. He lost as often as he won, and Beruka couldn't fathom the man's love for games of chance. She much preferred the solidity of strategy and skill, although she had no time for games, and no desire to befriend people she may later have to kill.

Niles himself had been dangerous enough to befriend. He had made a name for himself in the slums, and still kept in touch with his old contacts. But all that made him a target, with a capital T, and increasingly, Beruka found it difficult to accept the notion that she may one day be hired to kill him.

And all that was before he'd managed to tumble his way into her bed—and her heart, such as it was, Beruka could admit only privately.

After that, there was no going back to the old ways. Camilla had approached her, offering to hire her on (discreetly) as the royal Nohrian court assassin, as well as her retainer. Beruka had yet to accept the offer, but the longer this war stretched on, the more she figured she may have to.

"Oh, and what's this?" came a familiar drawl. "Have you been waiting for me?"

Beruka felt, more so than saw, Niles' approach. He flung his arms around her, and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. Beruka wrinkled her nose; Niles positively _reeked_ of alcohol. She wondered where he'd found it.

"I'm positively titillated," Niles added, near her ear.

Beruka's whole body stiffened, but that was not uncommon when Niles got like this. She had learned the signs partly by instinct and partly by trial and error. But whereas Niles' ardor pressed outward (defensively, no doubt), Beruka's had caved inward, almost to the point where it was irretrievable.

Almost.

"Shall we?" Niles added, already tugging at her waist.

No. She could not let this happen this way. She need to tell him, not hide in the darkness with him. _I need to tell him. I need to…_ Her fists curled at her sides, and she dug her heels into the ground almost without thought.She couldn't look at him, and she couldn't stop staring at a fixed point somewhere above her abdomen.

Though incredibly drunk and thoroughly aroused, Niles was no idiot. "Beruka? Not in the mood?"

"Niles." She tried. Good gods, did she try. "I… need to tell you something."

Niles cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is this about the smell? I've told you before, I don't—"

 _"We have an issue."_

A wicked grin curled across Niles' narrow face. "Hell, you'dthink someone had to drag that out of you with a rusty axe blade. Perhaps I could demonstrate, sometime?"

Beruka slammed an open-palm strike into his shoulder, and Niles let go. She was still staring down at her belly, as if it had the answer she was trying to give him.

"You could have just said no," Niles muttered, rubbing at his shoulder. "I'm going to bed."

He turned to leave, and Beruka snapped to, catching his arm before he ducked under the main tent flap. They stared each other down for a long moment, the Wyvern Ryder and the Outlaw, their hackles raised and blood boiling.

"I'm late," Beruka finally blurted out.

Niles staggered, as though she'd hit him with the full force of her war axe. "I beg your pardon," he managed weakly.

Beruka's eyes narrowed. "My monthly bleeding. It's late."

Some of Niles' sadistic fire returned: "And what do you expect me to do about it? Either you take the tansy tea, or you don't, but if you expect me to go running off on every little whim and rub your feet in the evenings, you have some nerve—!"

A sharp slap sounded across the clearing, to the point the several owls started into flight.

"I expect you," Beruka hissed, "to help me."

Niles' hand found its way to his face as he stared at her. It was still warm, and stung where she'd slapped him. "You're right," he said quietly. "You're right." He drew in a shuddering breath. "What do you need to brew tansy tea? I don't have my normal contacts here, but I'm sure can find whatever you need."

"I'm not taking it."

If he were surprised before, Niles was downright _shocked_ now. "What do you mean, you aren't taking it? We're on a mission to enemy territory in the middle of a gods-damned war; now is not the time to have a child."

"Now is also not the time to die when the tea doesn't work, and the abortion goes wrong." Anger was one of the emotions Beruka could exhibit well, Niles had quickly learned. It sharpened her edges even further, and dropped her low voice into a snarl. "I will not die of pus fever when I could simply have had the child."

It struck Niles that, previously when this situation had happened (and mercifully, it had only been once), if the woman had died in the attempt to be rid of the unwanted child, her death would have been no great loss to him. In the end, she had simply taken the tansy tea and they'd gone their separate ways, no harm done.

It also struck Niles that, this time, neither Beruka dying nor parting ways after being rid of his child were an option. He would not be abandoned again, and he would not abandon the little creature that would be half him, and half her.

"We're doing this." It was supposed to be a question, but Niles couldn't quite work up the timbre.

Beruka nodded, grey eyes solemn, instead of just cold. "Unless my monthly bleeding comes soon, yes."

Niles felt his knees give out. Beruka caught him before he fell too far, and he leaned heavily on her. "I'm… to be a father," he said breathlessly, and with a touch of horror.

"I know." Beruka clapped him clumsily on the back. "I didn't really have one, either."


	13. Chapter 13

It was another week before their ragged troupe blew into the border town Ryoma had indicated in his letter. He had also said that he would send someone ahead to help exchange their armor, but when they arrived at the Drunken Jailer, the front room was deserted except for the innkeeper behind the bar, and a gruff-looking old man sitting in the corner, hunched over a tankard of ale.

Xander leaned over to Corrin to whisper, "Is that him?"

She tentatively shook her head, glancing to Kaze. The ninja also shook his head, and Corrin glanced back to Xander. "No, I don't recognize him."

"Ryoma lied, then," Camilla said, deceptively lightly.

"I doubt it," Corrin said, while Kaze scowled over her shoulder. "We probably just beat whomever he sent here."

Camilla relaxed, but only slightly. "Xander, would you care to do the honors?"

The Crown Prince sighed hugely, and began to make his way over to the innkeeper. Corrin, however, slipped past him, and before Xander could think to say anything, she had already asked, "Do you have beds for ten?"

The innkeeper's brow furrowed, and he held up a finger as he went digging through his list of rooms. The man at the end of the bar eyed the pair for a moment, and then went back to his drink. "We have a couple of double beds, and a handful of singles left," the innkeeper said, glancing back up to Corrin again.

"Great," said Xander with a snort, "We'll take it."

"I'll give you the bulk discount," the innkeeper said. "That'll be eight-hundred gold a night. Meals are pay-as-you-go, and it's another thirty-five for anyone who wants to bathe."

"Fine," said Xander, fishing his coin purse out from beneath his gambeson.

"What shall I write in the ledger?" the innkeeper asked.

Something hard flashed in Corrin's eyes. "The Key Dragons Mercenary Company."

The innkeeper nodded. "Will you all be needing soap and towels?"

"Please," Xander said with a laugh. The innkeeper smiled, and disappeared into a back room.

"The Key Dragons, eh?" said the man at the end of the bar. "Never heard of you."

"We've mostly worked out of Windmire," Xander said, easily enough.

The old man snorted. "The war finally push you east, eh? Or was it the mad king, Garon?" Xander's face hardened, and Corrin eyed him warily. "The stories I've heard out of Castle Krakenburg are enough to turn even a cast iron stomach."

Three things then happened at once:

Xander took a step forward, Corrin grabbed at his arm to pull him back, and Kaze said, sharply, "Kagero, that's enough."

The old man suddenly sat up straight. "How did you know it was me?" he said, losing all the rough edges to his voice. "I thought I did pretty well, this time."

The "old man" flipped down his hood to reveal a head of glossy, brown hair. In the firelight, one could begin to make out that the face was caked in makeup, and sitting up straight, the grey cloak fell in such a way that advertised its wearer was female.

Kaze smiled, but only faintly. "Your disguises have improved, but you've been hanging too much around my brother." He shot her a reproving look, and added something in the Hoshidan language.

The "old man"—this woman, Kagero—bowed her head, chastised. She responded to Kaze also in Hoshidan, and then turned to face Xander and Corrin. "I will not apologize for the truth, but I will for the manner in which it was delivered."

Corrin relaxed only slightly, and Xander remained tense, shoulders taut. "What rumors have you heard?" he asked, barely able to stop gritting his teeth to ask the question.

Kagero shifted in her seat, swishing beer about her tankard as she looked for a way to respond. "Well, the massacre at Cheve, for one thing."

"If you don't think we're as furious at that incident as everyone else," Corrin said hotly, "you haven't been listening to the right rumors."

Kagero smiled, thinly. "That's the Corrin Lord Ryoma told me about." When she glanced to Xander, her expression grew harder. "And what do you say, _prince?"_

"Hush," he said, glancing sideways toward where the innkeeper had previously stood. "Though I'm not in the habit of disobeying my father's orders, I can assure you, they would not be mine."

Kagero studied him for another long moment. "I suppose that's fair."

-)

After a round of baths and the first hot meal in a while, the leadership of the newly-named Key Dragons gathered in the corner of the pub with tankards, while a freshly-bathed Kagero laid out the plan.

"Tomorrow, I will go with Kaze to exchange your armor with the local smithy," she was saying. "I've already struck the deal with him; all he needs is the physical equipment."

Xander nodded gravely, while Camilla said, "Excellent."

"After that," Kagero continued, "I will travel with you past the plains to the town of Hoshido to the town of Kimorano, where we will meet up with everyone else."

"This all sounds too easy," Camilla said.

"I quite agree." Xander set his tankard back down on the table. "What aren't you telling us?"

"Xander, be nice," Corrin said, laying a hand on his forearm.

Kagero smiled ruefully. "You're too trusting, Corrin. The Cr— _Xander_ is absolutely correct. I am hiding something." Before Xander or Camilla could explode, Kagero held up both of her hands in a gesture for peace. "The easiest way to get there from here is to go through the Crescent Butchers' territory."

There was a large pause.

"You say that name as if we should know it," Camilla said.

Kagero blinked a few times. "You mean… you don't?"

All three royal siblings shook their heads no.

Kagero felt her knees buckle a little, and had to sit back down. "The Crescent Butchers are… where do I even begin?" The ninja seemed to be at a genuine loss.

"Why do they have such a name?" Xander asked.

"They don't _have_ it," Kagero said, "they _earned_ it." She got to her feet again, and began to pace. "When I—well, I suppose, us all—were still quite young, the Crescent Mercenary Company went up the mountain to the Kitsune Hamlet."

"Oh no," slipped out of Corrin's mouth.

"They had intended to simply pick off a few Kitsune and sell their fur for a hefty profit, but they had not intended on a battle." She took a steadying swing of beer. "And a battle they had! They drove the Kitsune back further into the mountain pass, to the point that the creatures were forced to leave their dead behind or be slaughtered.

"When the battle was won, the Crescent Mercenary Company sliced the fur off all the fallen Kitsune with their wicked, crescent blades. They made their fortune in furs, and the people took to calling them butchers. The name stuck."

Corrin appeared to be faintly green, and Camilla was reminded of the time Corrin had come upon the corpse of a dead rabbit once when she was a child. "Are these Kitsune anything like our Wolfskin?" Xander asked, brow furrowed deeply.

"I would imagine," Kagero said. "But you see why I'm not thrilled with the idea of escorting you all through their territory."

"It's nothing we can't handle, I'm sure," said Camilla confidently.

Something flashed in Kagero's deep, brown eyes. "I hope you're right. Lady Hinoka would kill me if something happened to her sister."

-)

Later that evening, as the company figured out who was sleeping in what bed (and with whom, in some cases), Xander pulled Kaze aside into the mahogany hallway, into the shadows of one of the wall sconces.

"My lord?" Kaze asked. Xander shot him a look, one eyebrow in his hairline, and Kaze visibly winced. "Apologies. Xander?"

"This Kagero," Xander said, folding his arms across his torso, "do you trust her?"

Kaze immediately nodded. "With my life, my…" He cut himself off.

Xander couldn't help but laugh. "It really is a habit, isn't it?"

Kaze nodded. "Particularly for those whom I respect. But why do you ask about Kagero?"

Xander quickly relayed what the woman had told Corrin, Camilla, and himself. Kaze's eyes grew wide in genuine horror as soon as the Crescent Butchers' name was mentioned.

"She isn't making that up, unfortunately," Kaze confirmed. "Kimorano is only a few days' ride from here, through the plains. Going around them would be far slower—though possibly safer."

Xander's brow furrowed. "Do you think eleven could handle them, should it come to a fight?"

Kaze actually paused for thought. For a long moment, he said nothing. But then, "Most likely. You and your younger sisters are absolute terrors on a battlefield, although…" He trailed off.

Xander's smile was rueful. He knew what Kaze was too polite to say. "Although Camilla and I don't have our mounts?" Kaze ducked his head, embarrassed. "Stand up straight, man; there's no shame in strategy."

"In that case," Kaze said with a self-conscious laugh, "I would say you've nothing to worry from Odin, Laslow, or Beruka. Niles and Selena may give you a bit of trouble, not necessarily purposefully, and I remain concerned for Peri's mental health, and her lack of horse."

It wasn't too far off from what Xander had concluded, and he wondered why Corrin didn't bring this man to war meetings. A moment later, he could have struck himself as it came to him— _Out of respect. He's Hoshidan._

"I'm inclined to agree," Xander said quietly.

"Thank you, sir," Kaze said. Xander could have laughed, but let the honorific slide. At least it was Nohrian. "Was there anything else you needed?"

Xander was about to dismiss him, but something else occurred to him. "What was it you said to Kagero earlier, in Hoshidan?"

"Oh, that." Kaze shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed. "It's an old Hoshidan saying. _Never wake a sleeping dragon."_

Xander couldn't help but grin. "We Nohrians have something similar, did you know? Do not poke the sleeping bear."


	14. Chapter 14

True to her word, Kagero left with Kaze the next morning, and the pair returned several hours later with a cartful of Hoshidan-style armor. They hauled the forged iron up to the biggest room the innkeeper'd had to let to the Key Dragons, and bundled the different sets into neat little piles of boots, bracers, and gods knew what else.

All eleven of them crowded into the tiny space. "Have at it," Kagero said unceremoniously. "Kaze and I can help with the clasps."

For some, the switch to Hoshidan armor was a simple and clean break from their usual. Despite the bell-like fur kilt and wide sleeves, the archer's armor was as natural to Niles as anything else he could have worn, and quite simply, and Camilla felt far more at ease in the short dress and tall boots of the Hoshidan Kinshi knight than she would have as an armorless oni savage—or worse, in the _tatami_ armor of a samurai.

Said samurai armor felt strangely weightless on Corrin's shoulders as she suited up, the sandals and coattails awkwardly exposing. Xander felt that the shield-like chestplate on his master-of-arms armor was uncomfortably open, but Kagero assured him—twice, in fact—that all was sitting properly. Also that this was about the thickest and most protective armor she could find.

Peri hummed her approval at the open kilt and shield-like chest plate of the spear fighter. "I think I like this."

"As you say, Peri dear," Laslow said. He and Selena were keeping their gambesons, mostly since the quilted, padded armor was, although very Nohrian, not likely to draw attention due to its inherent unremarkable-ness.

"It just feels freeing," the cavalier said. "It's fun to be in disguise!"

Both Laslow and Selena winced, and glanced to one another in a look decipherable only by Odin, had he been paying attention.

Instead, Odin was running his fingers across a set of samurai armor, feeling the _tatami_ and the molding of the chestplate with a strange sort of hollow aching in his chest. Though it had been years since he'd donned armor of any sort, given his newfound love of the tome and scroll, he still felt drawn to this Hoshidan armor that looked so very much like what he had once worn, in another world.

"Strange, isn't it?" Xander said conversationally as Kagero checked the ties and clasps of his armor for the third time.

"It does seem utterly weightless, compared to a paladin's armor," Odin agreed cautiously.

"Is there something wrong with your diviners' robes, Odin?" Kagero asked briskly as she moved over to help Beruka, who was struggling into the thin, white-and-red combat dress of a sky knight.

"No, no, they're fine," Odin said quickly, "I just…"

"You can't possibly tell us you feel exposed in them," Camilla said, fitting the halo-like headpiece of a Kinshi Knight onto her shoulders. "Your usual robes are far worse." She winced as she turned her head and slammed her ear into one of the headpiece's metal spokes. "This will take some getting used to," she muttered, mostly to herself.

"You just what?" Xander asked, not unkindly.

Odin released the samurai armor, letting it fall back to the bed. "Nothing worthy of the ears of royalty."

Behind him, Laslow was wearing a rueful smile, and Selena had folded her arms over her chest and looked to be in a bleaker mood than usual.

At once, Xander understood. "I see," he said quietly. "If you feel more comfortable wearing armor, Odin, by all means." He gestured aimlessly to the remaining piles of armor.

"With all due respect, Xander," Odin said, gathering up the red robes and beak-like headpiece of a Hoshidan diviner, "have you ever seen a myrmidon casting spells?"

Xander blinked. "A what?"

 _Shit,_ was Odin's immediate thought. It was followed by, _Have I said too much?_

But Xander understood. "I know that look. I receive it frequently from Laslow. I'll not press you."

Odin breathed a visible sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Just know," Camilla said, the lightness in her voice at odds with the gravity in her words, "that you may not always have the luxury of remaining silent about such things, Odin."

A shadow fell across the blond man's face. "We know, Camilla. We know."

-)

Two days after that, the Key Dragons—plus Kagero—set out for the plains of Hoshido. The rolling flatlands were nothing like the snow-capped mountains and winding rivers of Nohr, but privately, most of the Nohrians could admit to their beauty. The lush greenery was nothing like the twisted, black trees of the Nohrian steppes, and setting camp at night was as easy as picking a grassy knoll.

"Four days we've been out here," Xander said to Camilla later that week, "and we've yet to see a single living soul."

"It _is_ a tad disconcerting," Camilla agreed, her eyes once again sweeping the plains for movement. Their party was continuing to press forward, groups of twos and threes broken off into conversations. Kaze and Kagero in particular were thrilled to be chatting with one another in Hoshidan, it sounded like. "Perhaps Kagero's fears were unfounded?"

"I doubt that," Xander said.

"She _did_ seem too unnerved to be making something up."

Camilla studied the _kunoichi_ for a moment. Kagero seemed as devoted to Lord Ryoma as Selena and Beruka were to her, and from all Corrin had said of her "other" older brother, he was nothing if not honorable.

There were stories, of course, of Hoshidan samurai that had reached even the walls of Castle Krakenburg. When Leo had been little, he had loved to hear stories of the noble knights of either country. When their father had discovered him listening Hoshidan tales, he'd soundly boxed Leo's ears and sent him to bed without supper for a month, to say nothing of what befell Leo's poor tutor. Camilla could still hear Garon's fury ringing in her ears:

"No child of mine will listen to such filth!"

But from all her (granted, limited) interactions with Hoshidans, "filth" was not the word she'd use to describe them. Kaze was the perfect gentleman, and if she were in Kagero's place, she might have pressed for information in much the same manner. After all, though there were no similarly horrifying rumors coming out of Castle Shirasagi.

"Agreed," Xander said to his little sister. "Beyond her own unease, Kagero idolizes her liege too much to do something so obvious to shame him."

Meanwhile, at the head of the pack, Corrin was deep in conversation with Odin and Laslow.

"I'm simply saying, milady," Odin began, "that your spellcasting lacks a certain… _dramatic flair."_ He gestured theatrically in the same way he shot fire from the ends of his fingers.

Corrin laughed, covering her mouth with her hand like a proper noble-born lady. "I think I'll leave the dramatic version to you, Odin," she said. "I simply haven't the grace for it."

"Come now, my lady," Laslow coaxed. "Surely you can humor him? He'll never shut up, otherwise."

"Hey!" Odin said as Corrin began to laugh harder.

"It's true!" Selena called up from where she had been speaking with Beruka, who was looking very pale in the early afternoon sunlight and shifted uncomfortably in her sky knight's armor (such as it was).

"You were not asked!" Odin called back.

Selena stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to Beruka.

"Will you help me, or not?" Beruka asked, her voice hushed.

As Odin, Laslow, and Corrin continued their conversation up ahead, Selena's demeanor softened, just a hair. "Of course," she said quietly. "When we get back to the astral plane, I'll take you into town. We'll look for a cradle, and baby clothes, and anything else you might need."

Selena wouldn't have deemed it possible a moment ago, but Beruka seemed to turn _even paler_ than she had previously. Selena followed the woman's line of sight to where Niles was pacing at the edge of the group, alone.

"I know feelings aren't really your thing," Selena began, "but here's a question for you—do you think you're ready? Either of you?"

"No," said Beruka. "But we don't have the luxury of failure."

Up ahead, something caught Corrin's eye. "Laslow, Odin," she said hurriedly, "attend."

Instantly, their demeanor shifted. One of Laslow's hands went to his blade, the movement fluid and instantaneous. Odin drew his grimoire from within the confines of his (much less flamboyant) cloak, expression turning grim. A half second later, Xander and Camilla were at the head of the formation. The former already had Siegfried at the ready, although the latter was slightly more levelheaded and her steel axe remained at her side.

"What is it?" Xander asked sharply. "What's happened?"

Corrin nodded forward, soundlessly drawing her Yato.

Xander followed her line of sight up the road, up to a shadowy figure about a hundred yards off. He squinted, hoping to catch a better glimpse of whatever it was, but his sight grew no clearer.

"Are we certain this is, in fact, dangerous?" Niles drawled from somewhere to their collective right.

"Excellent point," Xander said, although it sounded as though it had been dragged out of him with a rusty lance. He gingerly sheathed Siegfried back at his side. "There's no sense in jumping at ghosts."

There was some grumbling as everyone else put away their weapons, particularly from Peri. It had been a while since the group had run into any real action, and the strain of being battle-ready but stilling their blades was beginning to wear on everyone.

As the group hiked further up the path, the shadowy figure revealed itself to be a withered old man, lumbering down the path with a small boy—likely a grandson—buzzing about him. Xander huffed a sigh of relief for—of all people—Niles' wisdom.

"Nice day, eh?" the old man asked as the group passed him. "This summer has been sweltering!"

"Yes, there is a lovely breeze," Corrin agreed with a small laugh. Camilla and Xander both eyed the old man warily.

"Grandfather," the little boy said, tugging at the old man's sleeve, "can we stop by the confectionary on the way home?"

The old man chuckled. "I don't see why not. Just don't tell your mother."

"I won't!" the little boy promised, taking off ahead again.

"Will he be all right?" Corrin asked the old man, brow furrowing.

"Oh, he does this all the time," the old man said dismissively. "He'll be back in a moment." Sure enough, the little boy ran back down the hill, giggling and nearly bowling over his grandfather. "He just can't stand still, the little rascal."

"So where are you heading?" Camilla asked politely.

"Oh, we're headed back to Yahaba," the old man said.

"That's a far journey for one so advanced in years," Kagero put forward lightly, having appeared with practically no warning, as usual.

"Oh, I'm young yet," the old man protested, pounding his breast a few times. He coughed a moment later.

Xander's eyes narrowed. _Something isn't right._ It was in the air, maybe, or in the wholesomeness of the old man and his grandson. Xander's stomach coiled with anxiety, and he glanced over to Camilla. The elder princess, however, was not looking at him, and instead was engaged in polite conversation. Damn her manners!

"Where are you headed, then?" the old man asked.

"Tawadaka," Kaze said, with such airy conviction Xander almost believed him. "The nobles there have hired us on."

"Oh, a mercenary group," the grandfather said. "Juro, did you hear that?"

"Yes, grandfather." The little boy's eyes grew wide.

"What have I told you of mercenary groups?"

The little boy smiled in such a way that small children should not. "They make the funnest targets!"

" _To arms!"_ Xander shouted, just as the rest of the Crescent Butchers descended from the trees.


	15. Chapter 15

The Crescent Butchers descended all at once.

The Key Dragons immediately drew their weapons and snapped into well-practiced battle pairs. Despite the Hoshidan armor, their training was all Nohrian, and anyone with any military training would see that. Xander, however, couldn't quite find it in him at the moment to be concerned with the glaring hole in the plan he just discovered.

Niles and Odin fell back, the former raining arrows and the latter, fire. Xander pressed forward, immediately crossing blades with the nearest swordsman and nearly tripping of the edge of the master-of-arms robe, whereas Camilla's axe had already taken a chunk of a lance-wielder's skull before the man even had the sense to raise his weapon.

Corrin drew her Yato and pressed herself to Peri's back, the two women covering for each other's weakness in the melee. As Corrin crossed blades with a particularly ugly thug whose bloodthirsty grin appeared to be missing a few teeth, Peri jabbed at the man's ribs with her trusty steel lance, piercing right through his hide armor and earning herself a splattering of blood. The cavalier grinned, drinking in the sight of crimson splashed across her gambeson.

Laslow, meanwhile, had attached himself to Camilla. Unfortunately for him, having a shield-sister didn't end up mattering. Laslow launched himself at the neck of a lance-wielder, hoping to get under and around his guard before the man could skewer him.

He was a hair too slow.

Laslow's cry of pain was all but silenced by the man's subsequent scream, and Laslow retreated back behind Camilla's trusty axe-arm, bleeding from a gouge in his armor across the ribs on his right side. His grin became all that much more pronounced, his flourishes, that much more extravagant, as he continued to fight.

Kaze appeared from the shadows to slice at various enemies' exposed joints and throats, and then disappeared from whence he came. But Kagero took a far less subtle approach, simply darting between enemies, hurling shuriken as she went. Her jaw was set in a stubborn grimace, as though she were valiantly trying not to say "I told you so!" to everyone in earshot.

Xander swung Siegfried in wide, sweeping arcs, and the blade crunched into armor and bone alike. Beruka and Selena, meanwhile, guarded each other's backs in a familiar, practiced way. Even without her wyvern, and even while wearing so little armor, Beruka was an absolute terror—though frequently annoyed to lose a kill to a well-placed arrow. She took no pleasure in ending a man's life, but _did_ pride herself on a job well done.

It was a dogfight, sure, but nothing the Key Dragons (and their component parts) had never experienced before. Bandits were common in Nohr and Hoshido alike, especially in wartime. They could handle this. This was nothing.

That is, until the berserker arrived.

The man reminded Corrin vaguely of Hans, the bald-headed, bloodthirsty knight in King Garon's employ. The berserker was also balding, and his face appeared to be hewn from rock, like a stoneborn. A wicked-looking axe rested between his hands.

"Son of a bitch," Kagero hissed, "it's Sanjiro."

This berserker, Sanjiro, immediately went for Peri. She caught his axe, but only just. She winced at the resounding crack, and for a moment, was convinced he'd broken clean through her lance. Corrin attempted to catch the next blow with the Yato, but instead of the clang of metal-on-metal, there came the wet crunch of metal-on-broken-armor. Corrin fell to the ground, spluttering and gasping for breath.

Xander immediately fell upon them—or tried to, anyway. Sanjiro's men pushed him back, kept him drowning in blows. An archer scurried up to the top of a nearby tree, sending Beruka and Camilla instinctively scrambling for cover. In the absence of her fellow retainer, Selena snapped to Laslow's side, and the two mercenaries rosined up their blades as the battle shifted.

"Does this remind you of—?"

"Laslow, I will _pay you_ to shut up!"

From his rear positioning, Niles nocked yet another arrow. His quiver was running low; he had to make this shot count. He narrowed his good eye, taking aim at the archer who was raining arrows on his comrades from the treetop. Kaze was already staggering in and out of the shadows, an arrow lodged in his thigh. Kagero had stepped protectively in front of him, shifting her hold on her shuriken to take a defensive stance.

Laslow was heaving, now, his smile strained, and Selena's ferocity was waning. One of the remaining lancers zeroed in on their position, and Odin immediately lashed out with a healthy dosage of power. It rumbled up from the earth, coursing through his aching blood like water breaking through a dam. Then it flashed off the tips of his fingers like miniature lightning.

The bolt went wide, smashing into a tree that smoked dangerously around the edges of its leaves, and the lancer landed another glancing blow on Laslow's shredded gambeson. Selena managed to shank the man back, but the damage was already done. Laslow dropped to his knees, and Selena was forced to step in front to cover him, as Kagero was already covering Kaze.

 _Steady,_ Niles thought to himself, _steady._ He needed the opportune moment to land an arrow in the other archer's eye, hopefully when she wasn't looking this way. So long as Odin could cover his lack of volley, they might have a chance.

A cry went up from somewhere to Niles' left, and he chanced a glance over for just a second. What he saw made his good eye snap open, and his stomach drop all the way to the depths of the Void. Beruka had taken an arrow to the side, and Camilla was frantically tearing shreds off her own undershirt to staunch the bleeding.

Niles cursed the counter-archer, her ancestors, her theoretical progeny, and these damned Crescent Butchers with every vile oath he knew. He took aim at the woman again, and in his fury, the shot went wide.

A moment later, Niles was rewarded for his sloppy handiwork with an arrow that pierced clean through his arm. He loosed a strangled cry, and Odin seamlessly stepped in front of him.

Magic crackled in the air around him as the blond man drew on the ancient power. Even Niles, who had no magical talent to speak of, felt the earth rumble and the heavens cry out as Odin unleashed raw energy with a spell from his personal grimoire, open in his left hand.

 _"Eldritch smackdown!"_ Odin roared.

The bolt struck true, and the archer fell from the tree, her bow scorched to cinders and her face unrecognizable.

Odin's face was set in hard lines as he whirled on the lancer still harassing his friends. Selena was doing a valiant job of holding him off, but she was bleeding from a myriad of cuts and gouges, and her sword was held at an angle that clearly pained her. From his position on the ground, Laslow had resorted to tossing dirt in the man's face and looking around for particularly sharp rocks.

Odin stalked forward with single-minded focus, pulling magic along with him. "By my fell hand," he snarled, twisting the aforementioned appendage before him, "and my aching blood, _you shall not have them!"_

The spell went wide, crashing into the axe-wielder who had been harassing Xander (not that the prince was complaining), and Selena took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip the tip of her sword beneath the lancer's chin and thrust it through the man's skull.

"Thanks for the distraction," she said to Odin breathlessly.

Odin sighed. "Here to help."

Together they hauled Laslow to his feet. Selena looped an arm around him, leaving her sword hand free, and Odin looped an arm around Laslow's other side, leaving him free to cast spells. Laslow winced as they both jarred his injuries, but sure as Grima's fury, his friends dragged him off the battlefield.

Freed from combat, Xander pressed forward to where that son of a bitch Sanjiro had gotten to Corrin. Peri was locked in a defensive stance, her mismatched eyes wide in dismay. She countered the man's axe as best she could while positioned defensively over Corrin's prone body—which was to say, not very well at all.

"Peri!" Xander shouted over the crash of metal-on-metal. "Attend!"

"Lord Xander!" she cried, her voice even hoarser than usual. "She isn't moving!"

Xander's eyes widened, just for a fraction of second, but it was enough. Sanjiro looked to Corrin, and then loosed a horrible laugh that sounded maniacal even to Peri's ears. And then he fell upon Peri again.

Xander moved to guard her flank, and felt himself yanked back by someone of truly prodigious strength. The brute yanked him off his feet in a bastardized headlock, and Peri immediately whirled to face the new attacker. Covered in blood and reveling in combat, Peri grinned like Laslow did, Xander couldn't help but notice.

But he also noticed something else.

" _Peri,"_ Xander barked, _"your flank!"_

The berserker's axe smashed into Peri's borrowed chestplate with all the force the man could muster, and her knees threatened to give way beneath her. Her eyes were streaming tears, but she still drove forward, thrusting her lance into man holding Xander back, missing her liege's ribs by a very calculated inch.

There came a howling from behind Xander, and then he was unceremoniously dropped. He hit the ground hard, and the shock threatened to buckle him, but Xander forced himself to move, to pivot and bring Siegfried up and around. The black blade sliced clean through his assailant, and the man fell away, crying out in shock.

Xander whirled on Sanjiro just in time to catch an axe to the ribs. He doubled over, unable to catch his breath. It was miracle none of his ribs had broken; Xander supposed this Hoshidan armor was tougher than it looked. He reached out, and caught hold of Peri's unarmored shoulder before they both went toppling into the dirt.

"Lord… Xander," Peri managed. "Your sister."

Xander blinked a few times, trying to clear the spots from his vision. His breathing was too shallow to call out, but he managed to catch of a glimpse of Sanjiro throwing Corrin's limp form over his shoulder and calling for his men to retreat.


	16. Chapter 16

" _How could you let this happen!"_ Xander thundered. He was still a bit wheezy from the earlier blow to the ribs, but what he lacked in breath support, he made up for in anger. "You were her battle partner! You were meant to keep her _safe."_

Peri was visibly quaking in her borrowed boots, her lower lip wobbling and tears framing the edges of her vision. She had done her best, but the man had had an axe! Lances were no good against axes! Everyone knew that, especially Lord Xander. But the Crown Prince accepted no excuses, and so she remained silent.

"Corrin was counting on you," Xander barked, "and you _let her down."_

Peri continued to stare at her boots.

"And now we have no idea where she is, for what purpose, or _with whom,_ so just what do you have to say for yourself, Peri?"

"Xander, that is _enough!"_

Both Xander and Peri froze as Laslow limped into their little conversation circle. "Laslow," Peri mumbled, "you shouldn't be standing."

"She is right," Xander said sternly, folding his arms across his broad chest. "And you are not a part of this conversation."

"I'll live." Laslow shot his Lord a look that asked 'are you daft?' without the requisite words. "And Xander, your issue isn't with Peri."

"Like hell it is!" Xander shouted. "Peri was her shield-sister! She should have _protected her;_ should have been there; should have done a lot of things! I can't—" Xander cut himself off, and Laslow cocked an eyebrow. "Dammit," Xander muttered, rubbing his forehead as if to quell a migraine.

Peri mouthed, "Thank you." to Laslow, who made a show of brushing her off to hide just how red his face had become.

"Sit _down,_ Laslow," Xander barked.

Laslow pointedly lowered himself onto a rotted log. "So," he drawled, "what are we going to do about it?"

"Good question." Xander seated himself on the log beside Laslow, still rubbing his forehead.

When she didn't follow their lead, both men glanced up to their third. Peri was still visibly uncomfortable, scuffing her boots in the sand and not looking at either of them.

Xander sighed. He forgot, sometimes, just how young Peri could be. "Peri, I apologize for yelling. It was… unkind of me, nor was it true."

"He's just frustrated, Peri dear," Laslow added with a wink.

Xander threw up his hands, and Peri giggled before taking a seat in the dirt across from the boys. "Would Kagero know where they've gone?" she asked.

"It's likely." Xander worried the cuffs of his sleeves in thought. "Unfortunately, she's not here at the moment. We sent her off to get a medic—preferably before Beruka bleeds out."

"Have you seen Niles?" Peri asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "He hasn't left her side since the fight ended, not even when Odin snapped the arrow shaft off."

Xander glanced over to where Beruka lay. She was even paler than usual, her hands pressed against the wound in her side in an (admittedly rather futile) attempt to stop the bleeding. Niles was close beside her, speaking to her in a low, soothing tone.

Xander didn't have a head for gossip; he was too busy keeping an army together. "Are the rumors about them true?"

"So far as we know," Laslow confirmed.

"Hmm." Xander studied the assassin and the outlaw for another moment. There was something unreadable in Niles' expression—something softer, somehow—and even with as much excruciating pain she had to be in, Beruka did not keep her distance from him the way she did with everyone else. "I wonder why neither has approached Camilla or Leo for permission to marry?"

"He hasn't asked," Laslow said.

"And she's mad," Peri added.

Xander snorted. "If I were him, I would certainly fear her wrath." Had he not been the Crown Prince, he might have shuddered at the very idea.

"If Kagero turns out to be a dead end," Laslow said, wincing as he shifted his weight and jostled his ribs, "I do believe Niles is a tracker. He might be able to locate Lady Corrin."

"Gods, I hope so." Xander pressed his head into his hands with another sigh. "This is all my fault."

"Oh, Lord Xander, don't say that," Peri said, patting his knee affectionately. "You did the best you could."

The color drained from Xander's face. "That's why they took her."

"I beg your pardon?" Laslow said.

"Peri called me 'Lord,' on the battlefield." Xander's mind was racing. "They knew my…" He coughed. "That Corrin had to be important to me."

A breeze stirred their hair and the collar of Laslow's trusty gambeson, pushing a few fallen leaves across the dirt path. It should have felt clean, but Xander could only shiver. Laslow winced as he moved again, irritating his injuries, and Peri pressed a hand to her tender side. There was bruising, but she would heal.

"We need Kagero," she said quietly, "and soon."

"I just hope we can trust her," Xander said.

-)

Kagero's lungs burned. She had been running all the way from the site of their battle, and was not about to rest. Night was quickly falling, and if she didn't find help soon…

 _No._

Kagero shook her head. _I refuse to think about it._ She owed Kaze far too much to let him die at the hands of the Crescent Butchers, and she would not dishonor the faith placed in her by the Nohrians and Lady Corrin with failure.

She came across a sleepy little village town just beginning to shutter all its doors for the night. After a few wrong turns, she burst through the doors of a local tavern, and found herself to be the center of attention. She drew breath in great, heaving gasps, hands on her knees.

"Dawn Dragon be merciful," the innkeeper said, coming over to her. "What happened to you, girl?"

"Ambush," Kagero managed to get out. "My friends are injured. Need a healer."

"Girl," said a ragged-looking man who could hardly have been older than she, "was it the Crescent Butchers?"

Kagero was too out of breath to be annoyed. She nodded several times, hoping the urgency would properly come across.

"Damn those bastards," said another man, pounding a fist into his open palm.

"Your friends are lost, friend," said a woman who also looked incredibly ragged. "No one will leave the village after dark, least of all the Priestesses. They hardly ever leave the temple."

"Which temple?" Kagero asked at once.

The woman blinked. "Were you not just listening?"

Kagero's eyes narrowed. "Which. Temple?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "The northern one, near the edge of town." Kagero began to move. "But you're wasting your time!

Kagero stopped in the doorframe—"I'll be the judge of that."—and was running once more.

After several more wrong turns (honestly, Kagero was starting to become a little ashamed of her lack of direction), she arrived at the northernmost temple, only to discover that the gates had already been shut for the night.

"Dammit," Kagero hissed, slamming her hand down on her bruised thigh.

The smack echoed throughout the thoroughfare, and then silence reigned.

 _"Priestesses!"_ Kagero shouted, pounding on the wooden gate. "I call upon your aid!"

The temple remained still and dark for so long Kagero debated raising her fist again. Just as she was about to knock, a panel set at eye height shifted open. A pair of tired, old eyes met Kagero's fiercely determined ones.

"The temple is closed, child," said a woman's voice. "Come back tomorrow if you wish to pray." She began to slide the door shut again.

Kagero jammed her fist into the panel, heedless of splinters. "My friends and I were ambushed on the road. Please, we need a healer!"

The woman sighed. "We simply cannot help everyone stupid enough to walk the Crescent Butchers' territory after dark. Come back tomorrow." She shoved Kagero's hand out of the panel, and shut the door firmly.

Kagero huffed. "Their blood is on your hands!"

No one answered.

 _They could have at least pointed me toward someone who would help,_ Kagero thought sourly as she began to hike back up the road. She was so wrapped up in trying to find a solution that she didn't notice the shadowy figure coming toward her until she was nearly set upon.

Instinctively, Kagero shrank back, hands going to the daggers hidden in her sleeves. The figure raised its hands and Kagero tensed, ready for a fight—but it only threw back its hood, revealing an elderly woman with a severe haircut.

"Did the sisters give you trouble?" she asked in a voice as warm and worn as a beloved winter blanket.

"Do they usually?"

The old woman nodded. "Almost without fail. What did you need from them?"

Kagero sighed. "My friends and I were ambushed on the road. We need a healer—badly. Do you know of—"

"Lead the way," interrupted the old woman, shifting something beneath her traveling cloak.

Kagero blinked a few times. "I beg your pardon?"

The woman's cloak fell open, revealing a bloom festal she was using as a cane. "I am Nara, formerly Priestess. Now, lead the way."

-)

"Thank the gods," Camilla said when Kagero reappeared in the camp (such as it was) with the old priestess in tow. "Beruka hasn't stopped bleeding since you left." The princess turned to the priestess. "What do you need to work?"

"Hot water and rags," said Nara. "Sake, if you have it."

"Er." Camilla pulled up short. "Someone might have some whiskey?"

"Good enough," said the priestess, rolling up her sleeves. "Who needs healing?"

"Beruka," Camilla said at once. "She's over at the tree." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "I'll round up rags and water."

Nara nodded, pulling the boom festal to casting level. "You have my thanks."

Beruka lay against the trunk of a sturdy oak tree. Her breathing was labored and her grey-violet eyes were unfocused. Niles held her hand in a death grip, heedless of the arrowhead in his arm. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost.

Nara knelt in front of Beruka. "Easy, my child." She placed her hand over Niles', and squeezed. "You have done well."

Niles started and reached for his bow, only to snarl in pain when he moved his wounded arm. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"I am healing her," Nara said simply. "Easy, now; I will help you, as well."

She began to channel magic through the festal, drawing upon the latent magic in the air, leftover from battle. The energy thrummed through the healing rod, and although it didn't crackle like Odin's lightning, Niles could feel its power just the same. Maybe he ought to take up the healing arts, if only to avoid ever feeling so utterly useless again.

As the old priestess channeled magic into Beruka's side, the assassin began to relax, if only slightly. Her breathing became easier, and the blood trickled to a blessed stop. Niles watched, mesmerized, as skin began to knit back together of its own accord.

"That's amazing," Niles whispered.

All at once, the magic stopped. "I am but half finished." Nara glanced over her shoulder. "Who was that woman who spoke with me when I arrived?"

"Pr, err," Niles said, "Camilla, probably. You're talking about the woman with the braid, right?"

The priestess nodded, seemingly oblivious to Niles' near slip-up. "Yes, she with the great sadness about her."

Niles quirked a smile despite himself. "Yeah, Camilla. She should be speaking with her brother about now."

"Who is…?"

"Him," Niles said, just as Xander arrived carrying several tin mugs full of hot water and some rags thrown over his forearm.

"Camilla mentioned you needed these?" He was the picture of alert ease, as though he hadn't been yelling at his retainer an hour previously.

"Yes, child." The priestess took the steaming mugs from him, and bade him to sit down. "I'll need both of you boys to hold her down. She may thrash."

Xander glanced to Niles, who had gone pale from both blood loss and the news. The Crown Prince of Nohr positioned himself over Beruka's uninjured side, pressing down on her upper thigh and arm with all the strength in his armored frame. On her other side, the Outlaw held fast in much the same fashion. They both looked to Nara, who nodded.

She dipped one of the rags Xander had brought in the hot water and set about cleaning the wound on Beruka's side. Bit by bit, the arrowhead became visible, the small chunk of steel lodged in the assassin's side. Her eyes jerked opened once or twice, bleary and unfocused, and Xander was almost beginning to feel like his presence was unnecessary.

Then the priestess wrapped the rag around the arrow and began to pull.

Beruka loosed a bloodcurdling howl and immediately thrashed, nearly throwing Niles and Xander off in the process. The two men held her down with twice the conviction, and the priestess shifted her grip to the broken half of the shaft still attached to the arrowhead. Beruka tried to twist away from the pain, but couldn't gain the leeway.

And then, with a horrible squelching noise, the arrowhead and broken shaft came free. The priestess threw it aside in the dirt, disgusted by the instrument of war. "Is there alcohol?" she asked briskly.

"'Course," Niles said hoarsely. He yanked at his knapsack with his good arm, and went rummaging about for a moment before yanking a silver flask out of the bowels of his bag.

Nara unscrewed the top of the flask and sniffed delicately at the rim. She immediately winced—"It will do."—and proceeded to drip whiskey onto Beruka's wound.

The assassin howled in pain, and made her most violent flailing yet. Xander caught an elbow to the chin, and pain exploded in his mouth. He spat blood into the dirt a few times, and Niles winced sympathetically.

Beruka grew still as the old priestess bandaged her side. "Change the dressings daily, and get her to a shrine maiden immediately if she shows signs of infection."

"Yes, ma'am," Xander said with a nod.

The priestess eyed him oddly for a moment, and then removed her hands from Beruka's side. "This woman is lucky the arrow caught her in the ribs, instead of the lungs."

"I'll be sure to tell her," Niles said, glancing to Beruka with undisguised fondness. Xander couldn't help but feel that he'd stumbled upon something intensely private.

"Now," said the priestess, rocking back onto her heels, "besides this man, who else needs seen to?"

-)

As Nara saw to the injured, Xander caught up to a certain ninja. "Kagero," he began in a tone that booked no room for argument, "a word?"

She inclined her head, but only slightly. "Lord Xander."

Xander glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no one—particularly his sister—was within earshot. "You know this land better than any of us," he said carefully. "Where would the Butchers have taken Corrin?"

Kagero pursed her lips. "None of the answers are good," she warned.

"They will be worse if I do not go after her."

Kagero smiled, but only just. Perhaps these Nohrians did have souls, after all. "There are a few options. Either they took her to their nearby camp to do exactly the sort of thing that would ruin a noblewoman's reputation."

Xander blanched even further than Niles had during Beruka's arrow extraction. "Or?"

"Or they took her to their fort up in the mountains—or are in the process, anyway—to hold her for ransom."

Xander stomach was rolling in acid, and he fought the urge to vomit. "Which is more likely?"

"Depends if they know who she is."

Xander couldn't help but glance over to where Peri was napping on Laslow's shoulder. The dancer appeared not to notice her, and was deep in thoughtful conversation with Odin, who was gesticulating wildly as he spoke. "Peri called me 'Lord,' in front of that berserker, Sanjiro, while I was coming to her and Corrin's aid."

Understanding glittered in Kagero's eyes. "Then take heart; she's likely being held for ransom."

"Forgive me if I don't. Can you tell me how to reach their fort, then?"

"Better," said Kagero, "I'll show you. Round up whomever you trust and meet me at the edge of the camp." Xander nodded, and she disappeared seamlessly into the shadows.

Despite his exhaustion, despite his injuries, despite his seething fury, Xander knew that the further he delayed, the worse the likely outcome. He rounded on Peri and Laslow, and Odin knew from the look in his eye that this conversation was meant for a Lord and his retainers, and took his leave.

"I won't order you," Xander said as Peri shook off her exhaustion, and Laslow wincingly drew himself upright, "but I'm going after my little princess, and I would appreciate the help."

"You got it, Lord Xander." Peri immediately got to her feet and plucked her lance from where it was leaning against a nearby tree.

"Stop staring at me," Laslow mumbled, cheeks flaring red, "of course I'm coming with you."

Xander felt a surge of affection for his occasionally wayward retainers, but it was not enough to quell the rising fear in his gut. All he could manage was a quick nod. "Gather your things."

An unusually shrill voice sounded from behind: "You aren't going after her, are you?"

Xander caught Camilla just before she burst into tears. "Of course I am." He refused to let Camilla's emotional display rattle him. "We certainly aren't leaving her in the hands of those monsters."

"I know, I know." Camilla squeezed her older brother tightly, in a way she hadn't since she was small—partly because of decorum, and partly because the distance Xander so carefully cultivated between himself and the rest of the world. "I just don't know what I'd do if I lost you both."

"Camilla," Xander said firmly, awkwardly patting her head around the kinshi headpiece. "You aren't losing either of us. I won't allow it."

Camilla glanced back up at him, a watery smile forming across her face. "I'll hold you to that, you know."

"As it should be."

Camilla squeezed him once more and then let go. "I'm coming with you," she said, brushing tears out of her eyes.

"Out of the question," Xander said at once.

"Don't you throw that at me! Corrin is my little sister as much as she is yours, and I will not be left behind."

Xander had to allay her before Camilla dug her heels in. "Camilla, see reason. Who will watch over the wounded if you and I are both gone?"

Camilla glanced about, taking mental stock of the wounded— _Beruka, Niles, Kaze, Selena_ —and those leaving— _Xander, Peri, Laslow._ "Odin," she said.

"Odin," Xander repeated, an eyebrow in his hairline.

Camilla sighed, defeated. "Fine. Your orders?"

"Watch over our friends, here, and pray that Corrin was lucky."


	17. Chapter 17

It was near daybreak when Kagero finally pulled their little hunting party to a grinding halt. She hadn't let up her pace all evening, and Laslow's side was screaming. Peri kept wincing and putting her hand to her back, where she'd caught the axe, and despite his myriad bruises and slashes, Xander pressed stoically on.

"The fort should be just over this hill," Kagero said to the three quietly. "But this is as far as I go."

"And you found it just like that…" Laslow snapped his fingers. "…eh?"

Xander folded his arms across his chest. "I had the same notion."

Peri tilted her head to examine the ninja in their midst. "You know them, don't you?"

Kagero sighed, and leaned up against a tree. She looked every inch as exhausted as she felt, and she knew that Laslow and Peri weren't doing much better. She could have handled the two of them, but with their Lord involved?

Kagero was no fool; she knew when she was outmatched.

"I know Sanjiro," she corrected. "Or did, anyway. He was once a Chiyome ninja but that…" She shuddered. "Was a long time ago."

Peri's jaw fell open. "That axe-crazy man is a _ninja?"_

"Was." Kagero sighed. "The twins' clan have their demon in Kotaro, mine has Sanjiro. And like Saizo, I've never been able to take it out." She sounded so very bitter.

Though Xander had originally intended he and his retainers to go alone, he was not heartless. "You could come with us, you know."

Kagero shook her head. "I'll only disgrace myself. I'm in no state to fight."

"Well, then," Laslow said with as jaunty a grin as he could muster. "Allow us to do the honors."

Kagero smiled humorlessly and glanced to Xander and Peri. "Is he always like this?"

"Usually it's worse," Peri said. "He hasn't called you pretty once."

"Oh, that reminds me," Laslow said, "Kagero—you incredibly capable and stunning woman, you—would you allow me to take you out to tea, just the two of us, as a thank you?"

"Decidedly not," Kagero said, "but I appreciate the sentiment."

Laslow nodded, the answer nothing unexpected, but Xander snorted so deeply he had to set about for a handkerchief. Peri giggled, and Kagero said, "Well, it's good to see some life in you after all, Prince Xander. I was beginning to think you were always stern as a Nohrian winter, I believe the saying goes?"

"I am," the Crown Prince insisted, stowing the handkerchief away in the depths of his damnable Hoshidan robe-armor. "Now, is there anything you can tell us about the fort?"

"Other than you're likely to find Corrin the cellar below the main hall? Nothing, really. I've only ever been in as far as the foyer, and that was only once."

"Why?" Peri asked.

Kagero smiled thinly. "An ill-advised attempt to get Sanjiro to see reason."

"Will there be guards?" Laslow asked, already thinking of his aching side.

"Dozens," Kagero assured him. "I wish you all the luck in the kingdoms."

"We don't need luck," Peri said. "We have Lord Xander."

-)

Xander, Peri, and Laslow lay on their bellies just beneath the final rise of the hill before the fort in an effort to remain out of sight.

The fort itself was built in the classical Hoshidan design, with high perimeter walls but relatively few buildings and a lot of levee walls. There would be nowhere to hide once they were seen, that much was clear, and there would be a lot of corners to theoretically be backed into. Also a lot of walls upon which archers could be stationed.

Laslow sighed. "Well, they certainly aren't making it easy on us."

"Corrin owes us big for this," Peri huffed.

"Hush," said Xander. "You'll have your fill of blood before this night is through."

Peri glanced to Laslow, who translated, "You'll get to kill things, Peri my dear."

Peri giggled in the way that struck Xander to his core, hoarse and full of menace. It was difficult to reconcile the bubbly, childlike woman with her incredible bloodlust, sometimes.

"Are we waiting for something?" Laslow whispered.

Xander hauled himself up to his elbows to look over the ridge. A quick scan of the terrain told him that a few Crescent Butchers were playing dice near the main gate, and that there were few torches still lit at this time of near-morning.

He crawled back to lay flush with the hill line and his retainers. "No."

Xander held up three unadorned fingers, and both Laslow and Peri tensed. He pulled one down, and the others, and then all three of them vaulted to their feet and took off in dead sprints. They drew their weapons in smooth, practiced motions. The men at the gate never even saw what hit them. Xander, Laslow, and Peri left the men's blood-splattered dice in the dirt, ivory gleaming faintly in the early-morning light.

They pressed forward, whipping around the corners of levees to maximize the impact of their blades. Laslow and Peri stuck close together, covering each other's backs, and, in Peri's case, for Laslow's wounded side. Xander needed no aid, but instead smashed into anything in his path with the fury of a Nohrian blizzard.

"We need—" Xander paused to pivot around an enemy sword, and quickly adjusted his footing to jam Siegfried up through the man's gut. "—a damn floor plan."

"We have to be getting close to the main entrance," Laslow managed between ragged breaths.

Peri only nodded, smashing the butt of her lance into a spear fighter's nose. The resounding crunch announced she'd broken it, and the man dribbled blood onto his collar. Peri's grin widened, and in that moment, it could not have been more different from Laslow's dazzling battle-mask. She flipped her lance around and lunged forward, driving the whole instrument through the man's abdomen. She yanked it free, spraying herself with blood in the process. She seemed unaware of the mess—or more likely, didn't care.

They had lost the element of surprise. The more corners they turned, the more often they found Crescent Butchers in some sort of defensive position. Had they raised some sort of silent alarm? And what did that mean for Corrin, if she were here? (Xander refused to think about it.)

They eventually followed the curve of the outer wall of the fort to the main double doors, only to find several angry-looking, axe-wielding brutes, and—to top everything off—a mage wielding a tome that was easily the size of his head.

"Flank them," Xander immediately ordered, and the three of them broke apart.

Laslow immediately went for the mage, dodging gouts of fire as he did. A woman with a wicked-looking axe took a swipe at him as he passed, but Laslow twisted out of her reach with the practice ease of a dancer. It unfortunately left him off balance, and he caught the next lightning bolt straight to the gut. He spluttered, stars sparking in his vision.

Peri was skittish as a horse crossing water as she took up defensive positon after defensive position. A lancer's biggest fear was axes, after all, and she'd lost Lady Corrin while trying to fight a berserker. Hot shame burned in her gut as she tried to distract these axe-wielders long enough for Xander to do what he did best.

And Xander was in _rare_ form. He swung Siegfried in arc after arc of purple-edged fury, and though the occasional enemy landed a blow, the Crown Prince seemed to neither notice nor care. His whole being was consumed by the driving need to find Corrin, to keep her safe, and damn the consequences.

Peri chanced a glance sideways just in time to see Laslow catch that lightning bolt to the gut. Her eyes went wide and immediately snapped back to assess Xander's position. He was crossing blades with a fellow swordsman who was nowhere near the same caliber.

 _He'll be fine,_ she decided, and took off running toward Laslow.

The mage was gearing up for another assault, and Peri felt her stomach drop. Laslow was swaying unsteadily on his feet, his sword too low to be in attack positon. He wouldn't be able to get out of the way this time. Peri's eyes locked wide in horror, and she did the only thing she could think to do.

She tackled Laslow to the ground just as the mage shot a burst of fire that whistled over their heads. They hit the ground hard, and Laslow groaned as his wounded side was jostled. The heat from the fireball was searing at close range, and the scent of burned hair threatened to choke Peri. But she got to her feet, yanking her lance up with her and twisting the blade around to striking range.

She never got the chance.

At that moment, several figures waiting on the crests of the levees decided that this was the perfect time to intervene. They swooped down upon the three Nohrians, who had hardly the time to defend themselves. One cracked a club against the back of Peri's head with a gut-wrenching blow, and the sound made Xander jerk his head around just in time to catch Sanjiro himself barreling right toward him.

The berserker wore a grin even madder than Peri's. "Thought I'd be seeing you, boy." Xander raised Siegfried to the level of his eyes, a decidedly un-royal snarl twisting his features. "Ah, ah," said Sanjiro, shaking a finger, "none of that, now."

Xander felt a rush of power bloom behind him just before the lightning bolt struck, and the world turned black.

-)

When Xander came to, he had to blink a few times to ensure he was, in fact, looking at the same world.

It was oppressively dark down here, and it took his eyes several minutes to adjust. Once they did, he realized three things:

1\. Kagero had been correct about the Crescent Butchers keeping their captives in some sort of cellar, although instead of cells, he was simply chained to a hook in the wall.

2\. Laslow and Peri were also down here, restrained in much the same manner.

3\. Camilla was going to kill him.

"Xander," Peri whispered. "Xander, are you awake?"

"I'm here."

Xander glanced over to her, only to find that the last remaining holdout of Peri's mascara had streaked down her cheeks, and would only continue to do so. "Laslow won't wake up." Panic gripped her voice.

"He needs rest," Xander said, which was true but did nothing to assuage his concern, either.

"Silence!" thundered a booming voice.

Peri and Xander both looked up, only to find themselves staring down Sanjiro himself. Peri shrank back from the former ninja's black-eyed stare, but Xander tipped his chin up in a passable version of royal contempt, given the circumstances.

Sanjiro cackled, a sound like ground glass and cigarettes. "Well, Prince Xander, I'm certain you're wondering what will happen to you now."

"You certainly think highly of me," Xander said blackly. "I'm no prince."

Pain exploded in Xander's gut, and it took him a moment to realize Sanjiro had kicked him. Peri squeaked in surprise, and shifted closer to where Laslow lay, unconscious and chained to the wall, putting herself bodily between her fellow retainer and Sanjiro.

"Don't play coy, _boy,"_ Sanjiro spat. "A little hair dye might be enough to fool the average idiot, but not me. Certainly not with that sword of yours."

It suddenly occurred to Xander that he wasn't wearing Siegfried. He tried not to show any emotion on his face, but couldn't help but glance around this circular cellar room in the vain hope to catch a glimpse of purple.

"That got your attention, eh?" Sanjiro cackled again, and Xander was already beginning to hate the sound. "Don't you worry that pretty little royal head of yours. We'll get that shipped off to a proper buyer, just as soon as we can manage it."

"It won't work," Peri burst out. "Siegfried has to choose you. That's how legends— _oof!"_ Xander bit back on his molars as Sanjiro slammed his boot into Peri's ribs, cutting her off.

"We'll make it work," Sanjiro promised harshly. "And _you."_ He whirled to Xander. "You can kiss her shot at leaving here alive goodbye."

Xander's fingers curled into useless fists. So Corrin _was_ here. _Bastards._

"Give a holler if he starts to stink, eh?" Sanjiro said, jerking a thumb toward Laslow. "My boys couldn't rightly tell if he was dead or not."

"You're no Hoshidan," Xander said as Peri began to softly weep again.

"Of course I am." Sanjiro smiled in such a way that made Xander's insides twist in horror. "I just learned Nohrian from a mutual friend of ours."

"Well, now," said a familiarly accented voice. "Was it Hans? I bet it was Hans."

Sanjiro aimed for Laslow's ribs, and instead got a bootful of Peri's when she moved to cover him. Sanjiro made a show of gargling for a moment, and then hocked spit downward. Peri jerked her head to the side just in time to avoid a face full of it.

Xander sighed as Sanjiro stormed away, slamming the door to the circular dungeon behind him. "It must have been Hans," the Crown Prince said. "I never liked him."

"Peri, there was no need for that," Laslow said weakly.

"Thank the _gods,"_ Peri said, breaking into tears of relief. "You're okay!"

"Oh, I'm quite well," Laslow said, "I just _love_ dank cellars this time of year."

Peri giggled, and Xander managed a faint smile. "Peri, why did you lie to him about Siegfried?"

She shrugged, the chains rattling as she did so. "It just doesn't seem right for someone to use it other than you, Lord Xander."

"That's sweet," Xander said, "but inaccurate."

"I dunno," Laslow said, wincing as he tried to sit up without aggravating his ribs further, "I certainly know of a noble house back home whose lords were the only ones able to wield their ancestral sword."

Xander blinked. "How is that possible?"

Laslow made an exaggerated shrug that made Peri giggle. It almost made the screaming in his ribs worth it. "They managed somehow. Said the sword was too dull to be of use in the wrong hands."

"Sounds valuable." Xander thumped his head against the dirty stonework behind him and shut his eyes.

Laslow and Peri exchanged a look that only royal retainers could decipher. It was a look that said, 'should you, or should I?', and could only be achieved through years of study and practice. It was said that Iago and Hans, King Garon's retainers, could have entire conversations in his presence without the king ever knowing. Laslow and Peri were nowhere near that accomplished, but they _did_ have something going for them.

Stubbornness.

"Lord Xander," Peri put forward tentatively, "what are you doing?"

"Thinking." Xander didn't open his eyes.

"Of?" Laslow prodded.

"Well, for one, I understand why Leo keeps Niles around. Neither of you would happen to be accomplished lockpicks, would you?"

Both Laslow and Peri shook their heads. "No, Lord Xander," Laslow added.

Xander sighed. "I didn't think so."

"If that's one, what's two?" Peri asked.

Xander opened his eyes, his usual scowl twice as pronounced beneath dark bangs. "Nothing worth repeating, particularly in the company of a lady."

"I'm sure I've heard worse," Peri coaxed.

"And you deserve better," Xander assured her, then sighed. "We all do." He pointedly rattled the chains encircling his wrists.

He hardly needed to tell them twice. With his hands held at an angle high over his head, what should have been uncomfortable was downright excruciating for Laslow. He squirmed in a futile attempt at stretching out his cramped limbs, popping his shoulder painfully in the process.

Peri gave him a sympathetic look. Or tried to, anyway. At the same moment she tried to smile at him, the musty straw that covered the floor finally made her sneeze. She tried to catch the sneeze out of habit, yanking her hands down toward her face. The left one caught as one would expect from a chain, but the other, Peri discovered, slid downwards within the cuff.

A predatory grin bloomed across the cavalier's face. She tugged experimentally at her right hand cuff, and her hand slipped further down through the iron band. She twisted her thumb as far towards her palm as it would go, and she struggled to slide her hand through the rusty handcuff.

Laslow observed her struggle with a gleam to his usually guarded, grey stare. "Bring your hands closer," he murmured. Peri did so, bringing her hands as far down as the chain attached to the wall would allow.

Laslow studied it for moment—"Sorry about this, love."—before spitting on the hand in the loose cuff.

"Laslow, that's disgusting," Xander admonished.

But Peri was giggling, tugging her hand even further through the cuff. "Do that again," she said, holding up her hand.

It took Laslow a moment to work up the saliva, but he did as ordered. Peri was yanking at the cuff now. It sat frustratingly low on her wrist, and just needed to slide over her bulky thumb joint. She glanced to Laslow, who shook his head, jokingly sticking out his tongue like a panting dog.

"Lord Xander?" Peri turned to him. "Your turn!"

Xander heaved a very put upon sigh—"I suppose it's preferable to breaking your thumb."—before swishing saliva around in his mouth. He hocked a very un-regal glob of spit onto Peri's hand, and she quickly twisted it around in the cuff.

And then, all at once, her hand came free.

Peri was shaking her spit-covered hand, giggling all the while. There were huge red welts across the pale expanse, as well as streaks of rust, but the skin didn't appear broken. A slow grin spread across Laslow's face, and Xander wore a smaller, less love-struck version.

"I take it back," said the Crown Prince. "I have an idea."

 **-)**

 **To those without PM:**

 **Guest: This is 100% what happens when your raiding party doesn't have a cleric**

 **The Dawn: Ask and ye shall receive ;p**


	18. Chapter 18

**Soundtrack time! A lot of this chapter was written to "Monster" by Skillet.**

 **-)**

It was many hours and fitful catnaps later that three bandits entered the circular cellar, bearing bread and dirty water. Peri squinted through the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of their weapons. Her eyes raked across them for a glint of steel or iron. She had to hold back a grin when she found what she was looking for, and instead nudged Lord Xander and Laslow.

Show time.

"Nohrian bastards," the lead man remarked, tossing the rations carelessly to the ground.

Peri's hands fisted in her skirts, hiding her free hand from view. Xander glared contemptuously up at the three bandits—although really, it wasn't too different from his usual facial expression. Laslow remained immobile, slumped against the wall.

Peri swallowed audibly as Xander scooped up their rations and slid the tin mugs away from the bandits' boots. "Please," Peri said, and she would have tugged at the hem of the lead man's robe if she could have, "p-please, I think he's dying."

"What?" barked one of the bandits. "Who?"

"Laslow." Peri made a show of crocodile tears, thanking the Dusk Dragon that her mascara was already ruined. "H-he's not m-moving anymore."

The lead man looked to Laslow, and then back to Peri and Xander. "Watch him," he said to the man on his left, gesturing to Xander. "Put your naginata through him if he moves."

The man with the naginata drew the lance-like weapon from its place on his back, and angled the thing within striking distance of Xander's throat. He nodded to the lead man as Xander eyed the tip of the blade warily.

With the major threat taken care of, the lead man dropped to a crouch to examine Laslow. "I can't tell if he's breathing," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Does someone have a mirror?"

Peri tuned out the three bandits as she searched for an opportunity. This lead man had a sword, and so did the man to his right. She needed that Hoshidan lance the third one held, but the waiting was _excruciating_. She could already see the blood splattered across the walls in her mind's eye, could already taste the coppery spray.

 _But Laslow said that was bad,_ a little voice in the back of her head told her. _And so did Lord Xander and the nice doctor-man. And these bandits might have mommies, too._ Peri had to shake the thought from her would never understand why Laslow insisted that thinking on such things was good, but she had promised him she would try.

The lead man said something in Hoshidan and got to his feet again. The man with the naginata pulled the tip of the blade away from Xander's throat, and Xander released a held breath that couldn't possibly be fake. He wasn't a decent enough actor to project that much relief, if it were false.

Peri waited until all three men had their backs turned, and then she struck.

She sprang forward, catching the man with the Hoshidan lance off guard. He let out a startled "Oof!" as she collided with his legs. Peri yanked hard on the butt of his spear, and it slipped from the man's surprise-slackened grip. Only then did she rise, the chain keeping her pinned to the wall clanking as she did so.

Peri twisted the lance around to striking positon, scraping the butt of the spear against the stone wall as she did so. Such close quarters would be the death of her, if she weren't careful. _I only have one chance._

So she did what she did best, and thrust forged steel through the lancer's head.

He crumpled to the floor, forcing Xander to twist out of the way lest he be pinned. The man who had checked on Laslow seemed stupefied, unable to process what he was seeing. Peri moved forward to take advance of the momentary lull, only to have her borrowed lance clang against the other man's sword.

"You Nohrian bitch," he growled, bringing his katana up and around in a deadly arc.

There was nowhere to run, and nowhere to turn, so Peri did the only thing she could think of—she ducked, dropping to a complete crouch on the musty, straw-covered floor. The katana passed mere inches above her head, taking a few stray hairs with it, and instead of biting into flesh, it clanged against the moldy stone.

"Peri," Xander barked, " _run."_

Her first thought was that the chains wouldn't let her, but her feet were already moving at her Lord's order. And instead of yanking her arm out of its socket, she bolted clear across the cellar floor.

Only then did she realize that the man's katana hadn't simply clanged against the wall—it had broken open the rusty chain keeping her pinned down. It wasn't a clean break; Peri trailed rusty chain across the floor. She whirled on the two remaining bandits anyway, lance up and in striking position.

A fiendish grin bloomed across the cavalier's face, and the laugh that echoed throughout the chamber chilled the men to their bones. "I'm gonna lay your guts at Lord Xander's feet."

With a frustrated roar, the bandit leader shot forward, his sword angled to pin Peri's chain to the floor. She quickly pivoted, yanking the chain back with her. Peri looped the rusted metal around her wrist like some kind of demented bracelet, and brought her lance back around to striking position just in time. The clang of metal-on-metal reverberated throughout the circular room, making both Xander and Laslow wince.

The lead bandit pressed forward with quick, vicious slashes. His friend was also on the move, snarling as he rounded on Peri. Two against one weren't unfamiliar odds, but they weren't forgiving, either.

Peri needed space to work her particular brand of violence, and it felt all kinds of wrong to be fighting on foot. She missed the sure-footedness of her beloved horse, missed the height advantage it gave her and distance it practically forced on her opponents. She remembered, in the back of her mind, all of those lessons with Lord Xander upon her initial appointment to retainer. He had drilled her with lance-fighting forms day after day after day, until not only were the second nature to her, but also her muscles didn't need the help of her brain to perform them.

She baited the swordsmen with a jab here and a slash there, drawing rich, red blood that stained their white, Hoshidan robes. They were becoming enraged, and Peri's grin was stretching even wider, until it nearly threatened to break clean off her face.

And then, one of the swordsmen made the critical mistake of stepping forward. Peri's eyes widened in anticipation, and she flexed her fingers where they rested on the lance. "You're right where I want you!"

She lunged, driving the point of the Hoshidan spear right through the man's chest. She heard bones cracking beneath the man's pained yelp, and Peri adjusted her footing and twisted the lance around before yanking it back out again. He collapsed on the ground with a rapid, crimson bloom stretching across his abdomen.

Peri whirled on the other one, twisting her lance around in the cocky way that Lord Xander always barked at her for.

But he wasn't barking now. Xander was watching the fight with a scowl even more intense than usual, and Laslow's entire body was so tense, it threatened to further crack his ribs.

The bandit swordsman charged again, and Peri swiftly sidestepped him. The man was forced to pull up short, lest he run headlong into the wall. Peri cackled, and stabbed her lance through the man's back, near the base of his spine. He spasmed for a moment before growing limp, and when Peri yanked her lance free, the man fell to the floor with a wet thump.

"Excellent form, Peri," Xander called over to her, breaking through the bloody haze Peri found herself in. "Now, kindly get us out of these."

"Do you think they have a key?" Peri called back, dropping to a crouch to rummage through the dead men's pockets.

"If they don't," Laslow said, "you can apparently break us loose."

"That's true," Peri conceded.

She continued to rummage through the men's pockets. The rich, coppery scent of blood was making her feel all warm and tingly, as if she were drunk, but it was sticky and uncomfortable on her bare hands.

 _This is what Lord Xander doesn't like._ The little voice in the back of her mind cut through the intoxication. _A_ _nd_ _what Laslow warned you about._ _These men had mommies, too. You aren't any better than the servant who killed yours._

Blood was bad, she reminded herself. Blood meant killing. Blood meant war. It meant stains and sadness and horror. It meant she was losing herself to who she used to be—that scared, murderous little girl that Lord Xander thought she was better than. It meant she was drawing ever closer to the version of herself that had nearly strangled Laslow.

 _Laslow,_ who had never been anything but kind to her.

 _Laslow,_ who also smelled like blood.

 _Laslow,_ who didn't think she was a monster.

Peri's eyes widened in horror, and it was a struggle to keep her voice even when she called over, "I don't think there's a key, Lord Xander."

"Then grab a sword and try to break the chain," he called back. "We'll deal with it later."

Peri scooped up the dead man's katana as she passed him, the sword heavy and uncomfortable in her hand. Some people could make swords look pretty and deadly in combat, but Peri had never managed it. She much preferred lances, with their thin hafts and huge range.

But before she'd made it even halfway back across the room, the door at the top of the stairs began to creak. Peri froze, dropping the katana, and she heard Laslow's sharp inhale behind her.

Heavy, lumbering footsteps began to make their way down the stairs, and Peri dropped into a defensive stance in the middle of the room, bringing the borrowed lance up and around to striking position. Each footstep seemed to rattle around in her brain, and behind her, Xander's balled fists were turning white.

A huge, baldheaded berserker appeared in the dark doorway, hefting a large, wicked-looking axe. "Well, now," he said. "This explains a lot."

Peri felt her knees begin to shake. No, not him. _Anyone_ but him!

"This time, bitch," Sanjiro said softly, bringing his axe up to striking range, "I'll kill you."


	19. Chapter 19

Once, in her younger days, Peri had entered the annual spring tournament in Windmire. She had entered alone, with no fighting partner except for her trusty steel lance. She had no trouble smashing her way through the ranks, and had needed very minor healing throughout most of the day.

But in the second-to-last bout, she had come up against an axe wielder. The woman was thin like a spear, and flexible like a whipcord. She had bounced on the balls of her feet before the fight began, and Peri had thought nothing of it.

But as soon as the bell sounded, the woman had lunged forward. Peri had slipped backwards out of range just in the nick of time, and brought her lance up to defend herself from the crushing blow. But the woman smashed right through her guard with that axe of hers, and Peri was forced to retreat. She'd led the woman on a merry chase around the arena, occasionally managing to get in a few jabs, before the woman cleaved right through the lance's haft, and crushed Peri's breastplate right over her heart.

The officials had declared the match over, and the axe woman had proceeded to the final round. Peri ultimately placed third, and had sighed at the news. It wasn't that she needed the prize money; she simply wanted to be the best, for once.

After the tournament, she had been down in bowls of the arena, in the infirmary. An annoyed-looking healer was tending to her injury, and Peri remembered sitting on the examination table, swinging her legs back in forth (since they didn't reach the floor), when he had come in.

He was a tall, blond man, well-muscled in way of a career soldier, and well-dressed in the way of the nobility. Although his face was pursed in a scowl, Peri got more of a disciplinarian vibe from him than actual anger. He strode over to where she sat, and the healer made a short bow and continued to dress Peri's wound.

The blond man cleared his throat. "Do you know who I am?"

It suddenly struck Peri that the man was wearing a wrought iron circlet. He also looked closer to a practiced paladin than a budding mage, and so she took a guess as she immediately dropped into an awkward bow. "Prince Xander!"

"There's no need for ceremony." Peri could hear the smile in his voice. "We're in an infirmary, after all, and I had to ask three separate healers before I got a firm answer as to whether or not you were decently clothed."

Peri sat back up, wincing involuntarily as she did so. "Can I do something, Prince Xander?"

He smiled, and it made him seem three-hundred times less scary, by Peri's reckoning. "Actually, I have a proposal for you."

Peri blinked a few times. "I don't follow."

Xander studied her for a moment with an unreadable expression before he continued. "I was greatly impressed by your performance in the arena today, Lady Peri. I think you have the makings of an excellent martial leader and quartermaster."

"But I came in third," Peri couldn't help but say. The healer looked at her, aghast, but to both her and Peri's utter surprise, Xander only smiled further.

"Am I correct in assuming you have no formal training?"

Peri nodded.

"And that you served a few tours of duty with a mercenary company of some sort?

Again, Peri nodded.

"So effectively, you had no teacher at all, but picked things up when and where you could?"

For the third time, Peri nodded.

"And yet, you have placed third in the most famous tournament in all of Nohr."

Peri blinked a few times. "Oh, well, yeah, I guess when you put it that way it sounds a lot more impressive, huh?"

"Precisely," said Xander with a nod. "Therefore, I have a proposal for you. I can see the makings of a great knight in you, and so I ask you—Peri of House Dormand, would you do me the honor of becoming my royal retainer?"

The entre infirmary went totally silent—even the injured. Everyone—the healers, the injured combatants, the apprentices, even Xander himself—looked to Peri as she stared at the prince, not believing her ears.

To be a retainer was to live at Castle Krakenburg and serve the royal family. It was to eat, sleep, and work beside your liege lord (or lady), and to possibly lay down one's life in defense of the crown. It was an honor, a sacrifice, and a burden, and a position not offered lightly.

Years later, Peri would realize that she saw this opportunity as a chance to atone for her sins, but at the moment, all she could think was that despite his hard expression, Prince Xander had very kind eyes.

He coughed. "If you, er, need a day or two to think it over…?"

"No!"

The healers began tittering, and Peri's eyes widened at the word that just slipped out. She covered her mouth with hand.

"I mean," Peri tried again, "I don't need a few days. Yes, I would be honored to serve the royal family, Prince Xander." She bowed her head, without removing her hands from her mouth.

Out of her line of sight, Xander quirked an eyebrow. "I'm willing to forgive that impertinence on the grounds of shock and battle fatigue, but know that I am not a lenient man."

Peri nodded, her head still bowed. "I understand, Prince Xander."

"Then rise." Peri jerked upwards with the mechanical motions of a doll, too shocked to lend any grace to the motion. "And bring your effects to Castle Krakenburg by dusk."

Peri opened and shut her mouth a few times. Her governesses had always reprimanded her for her un-diplomatic (which Peri always took to mean un-noble) behavior, particularly in the way she spoke. Peri had never been more acutely aware of her defect than at this very moment.

"Is something wrong?" Xander asked, rather gently, all things considered.

Peri blinked something out of her eye. "Can I say good bye to my mommy and daddy, before I go?"

Xander looked taken aback, and cleared his throat. "Do you mean the Lord and Lady Dormand?" Peri nodded feverishly, and Xander's shoulders relaxed by the barest modicum. "Of course. I didn't mean to imply you couldn't get your affairs in order."

"Thank you, Prince Xander," Peri said, with sincerity.

He remained there rather awkwardly as the healer finished up her work bandaging Peri's side, and averted his eyes politely while Peri struggled back into her crushed breastplate. "I hadn't realized that Lady Dormand was still living," Xander said, making a polite stab at conversation.

Peri studied her boots. "She isn't," she said quietly.

Xander covered his surprise well. "I," he began, and then started over. "My condolences to your family."

"Thank you," Peri said, getting to her feet and probing at her side with her pale, slender fingers. She winced when she found the center of the axe wound. It would likely smart for days. "It was a long time ago."

-)

She could still recall sitting in the corner booth at Niles' favorite tavern, watching the other royals' retainers dancing and getting drunk and chatting with any and every one. They had all gone out to celebrate Arthur and Effie's recent engagement, and she had spent most of the evening curled up in that booth.

She'd figured Laslow would get up with Odin and Selena to get another drink, but he hadn't. She'd figured he would want to dance with Selena, or possibly Beruka or one of the other women in the bar, but he hadn't. She'd figured he would flirt until he got himself slapped, but he hadn't.

Instead, Laslow had listened to her tales of woe, transfixed by something on her face. Peri had never seen the man sit so still, nor had she ever told anyone so much about her mother until this moment. In an uncharacteristically kind gesture, Selena dropped off two more mugs of ale for them at some point, and had patted Peri awkwardly on the shoulder before pressing on.

Odin had appeared with his usual jubilance by the time both Laslow and Peri had tears streaming down their faces. He had thumped two more mugs of ale down on the table and told some hysterical version of Niles' most recent attempts to flirt with Beruka, on whom nobody could tell simple disinterest from complete unawareness. Laslow was cracking up, smiling through the pain, and that was the first time it occurred to Peri that maybe he smiled too much on purpose.

Odin had enveloped the both of them in an awkward hug across the table, almost knocking over several tankards in the process. Laslow shooed his old friend away, and Odin left to go cheerfully inflict himself on Selena.

Peri had risen to her feet, only to stumble in her heels. Laslow was beside in her an instant, catching her before she fell too far. She was reminded of the myriad times Laslow had caught something she hadn't in a battle—an axe-wielder coming up from behind them, a cavalier trying to flank them, Lady Corrin's dragonstone transformations, the roots of Lord Leo's Brynhildr sliding into or out of the earth.

"Is this what…" Peri hiccupped. "…being drunk feels like?"

Laslow blinked at her a few times, confusion written across his handsome face. "Have you… never done this, Peri?"

She tried to shake her head, but it made the world spin too much, so she stopped. "I never had anyone to go with."

Laslow's expression softened. "Let's get you somewhere to sleep it off then, shall we?"

Laslow kept a steadying hand on the small of her back as he guided Peri between the other tables and over to the bar. He asked the bartender if there were any rooms available upstairs, and the bartender had nodded, told him the price, and slipped the key into Laslow's hand with a wink.

Laslow blushed furiously, but Peri only giggled. "He thinks…" She hiccupped. "He thinks we…" Hiccupped.

"Don't fret too much about it, Peri dear," Laslow interrupted, although his face announced very much that he was fretting about it. "There will always be rumors."

Niles had winked (such as it was) at them as they passed, telling Laslow in a voice dripping with honey that he hadn't realized crazy was his type. Despite the worthlessness of the endeavor, Laslow had assured him that it wasn't like that; Peri just needed somewhere to sleep. Peri stuck her tongue out at Niles as he continued to hound poor Laslow, calling him a meanie and a stupidhead, to boot. It had actually gotten a smile out of Beruka, who then looked confused with herself.

Despite her heels, Peri had been doing an upstanding (pun intended) job of keeping her balance. It helped that she had Laslow's steadying hand to guide her, and he was just so _warm._ It made her want to snuggle closer and thaw out the chill in her bones that had been settled there for as long as Peri could remember.

And then they reached the stairs.

The upstairs staircase was mercifully separated from the main room, and so all of their friends and colleagues didn't have to witness Peri trip over the first stair and nearly faceplant into the rest of the hardwood staircase. Once again, Laslow had been her savior, catching her before she fell too far.

"Come on, Peri," he said, sitting her down on the bottom step. "Let's get your shoes off."

Peri bent down to work through the clasps, but her fingers felt fat as sausages and she couldn't un-thread the little buckle on the side of each one. Laslow watched her fumble for a moment before he knelt down, undoing each buckle with such tenderness that Peri felt her breath catch. He handed her heels back to her with his real smile, not the fake ones he usually wore, and Peri could only accept them, dumbfounded.

Who had cared for her so openly, since her mother had died? The servants, she supposed, but they were paid to do so, and she had killed a lot of them. Certainly not her father, who had retreated into his study after her mother's death, only coming out for mealtimes and social engagements, but the latter had eventually trickled off as the rumors about House Dormand had spread.

Laslow helped her back up to her feet, and Peri found that without her shoes, she barely came up to his chin. She had the absurd urge to lay her head at the hollow of his throat, tuck herself against his chest, and never come out again. But then she remembered someone telling her at some point that alcohol made you think weird things like that, and she felt a little better about it.

He put his hand on the small of her back again, nodding meaningfully towards the top of the stairs. Peri nodded back, drew in a hiccupping breath, and tried to tame the beastly stairs again. It was much easier without her heels, and she giggled at the discovery. Everything felt so strange beneath the flat soles of her feet, and her tights were very itchy where her shoes usually rubbed against them.

She was grateful to have Laslow's warm hand steering her, especially when she stumbled again. But this time, she didn't let Laslow pick her back up again. Instead, she just planted herself on the stairs and folded her arms across her chest like a petulant child.

"It's too hard," she heard herself say.

Laslow laughed, the sound like a ray of sunshine breaking through the ubiquitous Nohrian cloud cover. She wondered why she'd never noticed that before. "Peri, my dove, you walk up flights of stairs all the time. There are three, in fact, just to reach the Crown Prince's quarters."

"Nuh-uh." Peri stuck her tongue out at him.

Laslow laughed again. "Alright, now you're just being ornery. What would Lord Xander say?"

Peri scowled in a comical imitation of their Lord—"Run the drill again!"—and then collapsed into a fit of giggles.

Laslow was laughing, too—partially from the accuracy and partially because he found Peri's laugh infectious. "If you don't stand up, Peri, I'm going to have to carry you. And then what would people say?"

Peri mimicked Niles' honeyed drawl: "Well, would you look at that. Laslow finally managed a dance between the sheets." She winked, but in her drunken state, it came out more like a purposefully executed blink. "There's hope for him yet!"

"That's enough," Laslow muttered, his face turning beet red.

Peri giggled gleefully at her victory. She opened her mouth to say something else, but came up short when Laslow gathered her in his arms. "Eep!" she said as he hoisted her up, but stilled when she came to rest against his broad chest.

"I think you've had a bit too much to drink, Peri my dear." His voice was all rumbly when she was this close to him, and Peri pressed her ear against his chest to listen better. "I'll bring you some water later, okay?"

As Laslow began to move again, Peri noticed a certain scent about him. He smelled of men's cologne, to be sure—the good, expensive kind that was musky but pleasantly masculine—but there was something beneath that, too. Something utterly familiar, and copper-toned. If Peri shut her eyes, she could almost see the crimson spray as it erupted from this servant or that enemy.

 _Blood._ Laslow smelled like blood.

She knew that he had killed people, of course. They had been Lord Xander's retainers for years, and had seen more than a few battles in that time. She had watched Laslow stab Hoshidan spies and duel pesky court hangers-on and any number of things in between, but she had never been close enough to smell it on him.

"You smell nice," Peri mumbled against his chest.

Laslow chuckled. "Thank you! I pride myself on _bathing."_ He added the second sentence flippantly, and he sounded so much like _Laslow_ that Peri wanted nothing more than to kiss him for it. The notion scared her, and she pushed it away.

"Not that," she said, trying to wave him off and nearly hitting him in the face. "Beneath that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You smell like blood." She nuzzled further into his shirt, not caring that the metal buttons were pressing against her cheek. "It's a nice, relaxing scent."

"Peri! That is…" He sighed, and the shock fell away from his voice. "…about on target when it comes to you, isn't it?"

Peri yawned, and she felt her eyelids droop. Laslow was just so _warm._ "I don't get it?"

"Sometime when you're less drunk, Peri."

He set her down a moment or two later, and Peri absolutely mourned the loss of his warmth. She swayed slightly as she watched him fit the key into the lock, and then he ushered her inside.

He helped her sit down on the edge of the bed, and coaxed her out of her gauntlets and bonnet. Peri tugged at the ribbons holding her hair back, fumbling with those knots, too. Laslow squeezed her hand gently before he unthreaded the black bits of cloth from her hair. The blue-and-pink tresses fell to her shoulders, hiding even more of her face from view.

Laslow set her personal effects on the bedside table while Peri flopped down on the bed. It was amazing how much the world stopped spinning when she was lying down. It may have felt like her whole consciousness was being drawn out of her through a point just behind her forehead, but at least the world was blessedly still. She was only partially aware of Laslow pushing her gently onto her side and throwing a blanket over her. Peri gratefully snuggled into the soft cloth, but it wasn't nearly as warm as he was.

"I'll come check on you later," Laslow promised. "Sleep well, Peri." His footsteps began to recede.

"No!"

The footsteps froze. "Peri?"

She couldn't stand the thought of him leaving. She couldn't stand the thought of being left alone in this unfamiliar place with these unfamiliar smells and this unfamiliar darkness.

"Stay with me?" Peri rolled over to look at him, and Laslow looked stricken. "Just until I fall asleep. Please?"

Laslow sighed, and set about looking for a chair. When he didn't find one, he uttered a curse to a god Peri had never heard of before, and sat gingerly at the edge of the bed.

"Thank you," Peri murmured sleepily, reaching out to squeeze his hand. She missed, but Laslow caught it and squeezed back anyway, a small smile dancing across his lips.

"I've got your back," he said. "I would just prefer to avoid rumor, is all."

"You flirt with everyone," Peri argued.

"It isn't the rumors about me that I would care about."

"Let people think what they want," Peri muttered, shifting closer to him in an effort to warm the chill in her bones. "We're just a couple of pals who work for Lord Xander. It isn't… isn't like…"

Laslow waited patiently for her to finish her sentence, but when no ending ever came, he glanced over to her, only to discover the cavalier snoring softly.

-)

Both of these men were the only people to have ever believed in her. Lord Xander had simply seen her fight and decided her character to be of enough substance to hire her on, and whereas most people saw a bratty noblewoman or a vicious killer, Laslow had simply seen someone in desperate need of a friend.

They believed in her, and more than that. They trusted her. When he learned of her past, Lord Xander hadn't released her from service (or worse, had her arrested, tried, and executed). Instead, he had insisted in that kind-but-firm way of his that she needed to speak with someone professional and make reparations to the families of the people she'd wronged. Laslow had pulled her aside later that day to tell her about a crazy dark mage who was apparently Odin's father, and said not to worry, Henry had lots of friends and even made a surprisingly good father.

Lord Xander cared for her like he cared for his younger sister, Elise. He made sure Peri ate well and regularly, asked after her health and hobbies, and even had the kitchens make her favorite chili for her birthday, even though it was the day before Yuletide. He was a stern man, but he was always fair, and he never insulted or belittled her. In training, he found things to praise and things to critique in almost equal measure, and he never, _ever,_ told her she was crazy.

And Laslow cared enough about her to put up with her tantrums and childish stubbornness. He cared enough to sharply cut into conversations where people insulted her, even if it were Odin or Selena. Laslow had cared enough about her to carry her up the stairs at Arthur and Effie's engagement party, to hold her and let her cry into his nice shirts after appointments with the nice doctor-man that had been really, really hard, and to drag her away from Felicia even though her instincts had been screaming for justice.

And Peri was now the only thing standing between the two most important people in her life and a power-mad berserker with an axe.

Her grip tightened on the borrowed lance, and her face broke into a snarl. It didn't matter that she was tired and hungry and needed to clean mascara out of her eyes. It didn't matter that Sanjiro had an axe, or that she had lost Lady Corrin to him. It didn't even matter than her old wound was screaming or that her thigh muscles were.

Laslow and Lord Xander were counting on her, and she would not fail.

"Time for some killing!" Peri snarled at Sanjiro, her voice a deranged singsong.

The Hoshidan berserker cocked an eyebrow as he raised his axe to the level of his eyes. "He failed to mention that Xander kept retainers who were _batshit crazy."_

Xander's eyes widened, but Laslow began to laugh. "Oh," he said through fits of laughter, "you've done it now!"

With a furious roar, Peri launched herself at Sanjiro before Laslow had even finished speaking. The berserker managed to get his axe around in time to prevent himself from being impaled. He pushed against Peri's weapon for a moment before suddenly shifting back, stepping around the end of the lance to get under Peri's guard. She was forced to pull the lance tight to her chest to catch the blow, lest the axe cave her chestplate in over her actual chest.

"Peri Astridsdóttir," Xander barked, able to stand it no longer, "I taught you to handle an axe!"

The cavalier's mismatched eyes widened in their sockets, and even Sanjiro seemed puzzled. "Dusk Dragon," Peri swore, her mind shuffling through all the endless training sessions with Lord Xander and Laslow back in Castle Krakenburg. "You're right!"

Peri shoved forward with her lance, pushing Sanjiro back, before she disengaged completely and shot back several paces. She flipped the lance around and twisted her body so that only her left side faced her opponent. She then shifted her footing and leaned on her back foot, bringing the tip of her lance deceptively low to the ground.

Laslow let out an appreciative whistle, and Xander clapped his hands together a few times as best he could while still in the cuffs. Only then did Sanjiro recognize the odd way the lancewoman was holding herself.

It was the axebreaker stance.

 **-)**

 **Guest: well, thank you. It's an interesting challenge to keep Peri in-character but nuanced.**


	20. Chapter 20

Only once had Sanjiro of the Chiyome clan ever encountered an opponent who could perform the axebreaker stance with any real skill, and he'd received the puckered scar across his face as a result. And by the way this woman carried herself, had fallen so naturally into the axebreaker, Sanjiro could hazard a guess as to how practiced she was in it. Crazy or not, Prince Xander's retainer had just become twice as deadly. He wondered why she hadn't used it before.

Peri giggled, and launched herself at Sanjiro again. This time, her lance could easily scoop under his guard, and poke at his unguarded belly. She drew blood before backing away, snickering like mad and twirling her lance like a damned baton. Blood welled up from the puncture wound, streaking Sanjiro's white armor.

But Sanjiro was laughing, too. Didn't this woman know the trouble with berserkers?

He loosed a frighteningly loud roar and charged her again. Peri caught the brunt of the blow with the haft of her lance, but was forced to twist out of the way rather than parry. She would not risk a broken haft.

Sanjiro came at her again and again with dizzying strength and startling speed. It was a struggle to maintain the axebreaker stance, with its awkward angles and knee-popping lunges. Peri's whole body was screaming for her to just end it, already.

She thrust and parried and searched desperately for an opening. It seemed that the more blood she drew, the angrier Sanjiro became. (She vaguely remembered Lord Xander saying something about berserkers getting more powerful the more injuries they had. It had always seemed counterintuitive to Peri, so she'd paid it no mind—until now.)

So Peri quit poking the sleeping bear.

She began to circle him, eyes narrowed and trained on his every movement. Sanjiro feinted, and Peri missed her block. The axe was completely on course for a direct strike on her un-armored skull, and for a heart-clenching moment, Laslow was afraid he was about to watch the woman die.

But instead of a spray of blood on the wall, Peri shifted her weight from one foot to the other in a tight spiral. Her borrowed lancing whipped around behind her in a controlled arc. She scooped under his guard one more time, and drove the lance into his abdomen with all the force left in her tired body.

Sanjiro froze, and his wicked-looking axe clattered to the floor from his limp hand. A moment later, his whole body slumped even further forward. Laslow could just make out the tip of the naginata peering out from between Sanjiro's shoulder blades, and Peri's ragged breathing echoed in the cellar.

She then yanked the lance out of Sanjiro's limp body with a disgusting squelch, and he collaposed the rest of the way to the floor. Peri let out a startled 'eep!' when the body nearly crushed her feet, and danced out of the way.

Wordlessly, Peri bent down and wiped the tip of the naginata on Sanjiro's kilt. She then lifted his deceptively heavy axe with a grunt, and came over to where Xander and Laslow were still pinned to the wall.

"Pull your hands down," she ordered, hefting the axe into striking position.

Xander did so, and Peri brought the heavy axe down hard. The clang of metal-on-metal reverberated throughout the small, circular room, but Xander's hands came away free from the wall. The rusted chain rattled against the stone wall behind him, barely missing the back of his head on the way down.

"Well, that's the first step." Xander got to his feet with a pained groan, and then shuffled over to Sanjiro's body to rifle through the pockets for a gods-damned keyring.

"Hands down, Laslow," Peri said breathlessly to her fellow retainer, and Laslow did as ordered.

Peri brought the axe down on the rusted chain above Laslow's head, and to her immense displeasure, it didn't break. She cursed, hefted the axe again, and brought it down a second time. _Still_ , the chain didn't break. It clattered cheerfully against the stonework, as if it _enjoyed_ being a pain in the ass.

"Well, that's my luck, isn't it?" Laslow muttered.

"No!" Peri's tongue poked out between her lips as she focused intensely on the metal keeping her friend and fellow retainer pinned down. Laslow found it adorable. "I can do this."

Laslow pursed his lips as Peri brought down the axe on the rusty chain for a third time. With a grinding noise, it finally snapped, hitting the back of Laslow's head as it fell. "Ouch," he muttered, trying to rub at the exact spot and failing, due to the handcuffs.

Peri winced. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay." Laslow grinned up at her, and tried to get to his feet. His face cycled through the five stages of grief as the movement jarred and stretched his rib injury. Peri caught him before he stumbled, and he flashed her a grateful smile.

"Finally!" Lord Xander's voice cut into the gloom, and Peri and Laslow hurriedly stepped away from each other, embarrassed to be caught standing so close.

Xander brought the keyring over to Peri, who tested several keys against the keyhole in his cuffs before finding the proper one. The rusted metal fell away, and Xander rubbed at his violently red, chafed wrists while Peri set to work freeing Laslow.

After his hands were free, Laslow spent several moments fitting keys into the lock on Peri's remaining wrist cuff. He blushed hard and tried to convince himself that the darkness in the cellar would cover it, but Xander noticed, alright, and had to hide his amusement. _Like schoolchildren,_ Xander couldn't help but think.

Once they were both freed, Laslow and Xander picked up the two dead men's katana, taking a few experimental swings with them. "Good enough," Laslow proclaimed.

"Inferior," Xander muttered, glaring at the katana as if it were the sword's fault it wasn't Siegfried.

Laslow chuckled as he took up his usual position opposite Peri. "Hopefully we'll find yours soon, milord."

Xander sighed, taking a few more test swings with the katana. "We can only pick a god and pray." Laslow did a complete double take, to the point that Xander cocked an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"

Lalsow's brow furrowed. "Have I said that before?"

"Not to my knowledge," Xander said. "Why?"

"That…" Laslow paused just before the doorframe, trying to collect himself before whatever lay beyond. "Never mind."

Xander opened his mouth to probe further, but was accidentally interrupted by Peri: "Laslow, you're missing the chain thingy from your belt."

Laslow's grey eyes shot wide open, and his free hand immediately went to his hip. Sure enough, he felt the broken loop that had formerly attached the short chain of golden discs to his belt. He immediately jerked his head around to scan the cellar floor.

 _"No,"_ he breathed, tracing every possible step he could have made in this dank cellar.

Xander and Peri quietly joined him in the quick search, keeping their eyes peeled for any glint of gold in the semidarkness. Bile rose in Laslow's throat, bitter and unwelcome, the longer their impromptu search stretched on.

"It might have broken off in the earlier fight outside, Laslow," Xander said after a few more moments of fruitless searching.

Laslow's fingers were fiddling with the broken loop on his belt. "I hope so." Both Xander and Peri looked to him expectantly, and the dancer sighed. "If I tell you what it is, will you both stop _staring?"_

"You have my word," Xander said, and beside him, Peri nodded energetically.

"It was my mother's, from one of her dance costumes. It's… all I have left of her, now."

Peri opened and shut her mouth a few times, and Xander's facial expression softened, just a hair. "We'll help you search outside later," Xander promised. "But right now, we need to find Corrin, and Siegfried, and probably the Yato."

Laslow shut his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and then stretched his face into a smile. "Right, then." He opened his eyes, and an uncharacteristic fierceness glittered behind the grey. "Let's go save the princess, shall we?"

Peri giggled as the three of them tore up the stairs. "Does that make Lord Xander the knight in shining armor?"

"Knight in shining _robes_ , more like," Xander grunted, tugging at the irritating Hoshidan contraption strangling his legs.

"It could be you, Peri my dear." Laslow's smile was a touch more real as he opened the door to the guards' room above the cellar. "You're technically also a knight."

The three of them lowered their weapons when they discovered the room was empty. "My armor doesn't _shine;_ I take good care of it!"

"Black armor doesn't shine, anyway," Xander said with a sigh.

Peri pouted. "Siegfried does."

Xander glanced skyward, as if the Dusk Dragon could not only hear him, but save him from this conversation. "Siegfried is a weapon, Peri, not armor."

A quick scan of the room discovered a trunk full of confiscated weapons and armor. Laslow and Peri quickly retrieved their customary weapons, the latter gleefully tossing aside the borrowed naginata in favor of her favorite old steel lance. But there was no sign of Siegfried, not that Xander had actually figured there would be. If its purpose were to be sold for a profit, the legendary Siegfried would hardly be rusting away in a trunk full of (likely dead) prisoners' effects.

Xander set the katana aside and picked up the naginata that Peri had discarded. After a few experimental thrusts and parries, he shrugged and relaxed his stance. Both Peri and Laslow were looking at him with confusion, and so, with a put-upon sigh, Xander said, "I'd rather a lance than an inferior blade."

-)

The fort's façade had been deceptive, they discovered. The exterior made it appear to be of middling size, even on the small side, but the inside was _massive._ There were no end of side rooms and closets, of long, winding hallways and shoji screens. For every possible turn, there were at least three wrong ones, or so it felt.

There was also no end of Crescent Butchers. An alarm seemed to have sounded when Sanjiro and the three guards before him didn't return from the cellar prison, and the rest of the bandit clan had come out in force.

Although Xander preferred a fair fight, he was not above misdirection, especially given everyone's current state. A bloom of crimson blood had appeared on Laslow's gambeson about three hallways ago, and even Peri's ferocity was waning. Xander pushed himself beyond prudent limits, knowing he had to set the example lest they all perish. It didn't help his screaming shoulders, though.

Like before, they used corners to their advantage, whipping around them to smash headlong into would-be assailants. They put out torches, and made animal noises in adjacent hallways. Peri faked tears a few times, and once, Laslow had even made a show of collapsing to the floor at the foot of a door-guard, only to run the man through when he knelt down to see what in blazes was going on. Still, the tide of bandits was relentless; Xander quickly lost track of how many they slaughtered.

There were ninja striking from the shadows, and shuriken flying from all directions. More than once, Xander narrowly avoided catching one directly between the eyes by sheer luck or one of his retainers' shouts. He wasn't so lucky in missing the ones directed at his limbs or the unarmored portion of his chest, however.

There were swordsmen, too, with their curved katana and even more irritating dual katana, which had notched end-pieces that were perfectly suited to rip a lance from an opponent's grip. Laslow did his best to catch most of those, but a few slipped through the cracks. One even managed to disarm Peri, but she had lashed out with teeth and nails before the woman even had the chance to follow through with her parry. The cavalier had wrestled the katana from the woman's grip and run her through with her own blade.

There were axe-men, too. They attacked with unparalleled savagery, but Laslow and Peri didn't need to match them to take them out. Laslow could simply step around them and slice through unarmored body parts, and Peri took bloodthirsty pleasure in practicing the axebreaker stance.

There were mages, too, the damnable things. Xander had never realized just how much he relied on Leo (and by extension, Odin) to combat the fire and lightning whooshing across a battlefield. Without a counter-mage, fighting one was damn near impossible until you were close enough to decapitate or slice off hands. The scent of singed hair and cloth always hung heavy in the air after the three encountered a mage. They would likely need haircuts (and possibly new suits of armor) by the time this was through.

At one point, the three of them huddled in a stairwell, trying to catch their breath. Peri had ripped the sleeves off a dead Butcher's clothing to make a bandage for Laslow at some point. It did little more than sop up blood, but he smiled at her just the same.

Watching them made Xander's chest ache. Despite all the rooms they cleared and shoji screens they'd broken through, there had been no sign of Corrin, let alone Siegfried or the Yato. His little princess _had_ to be here somewhere, right? That was what both Kagero and Sanjiro had said.

Unless they were in contact, somehow? This was all some elaborate scheme to kidnap Corrin again, and kill off the Nohrian Crown Prince in the process?

"I don't think so," Laslow said thoughtfully, and Xander realized he'd said the last bit out loud. "Kagero doesn't seem like the lying sort—"

"She's a ninja," Xander interrupted thickly.

"—And beyond that, I think she genuinely hates Sanjiro," Laslow continued as if Xander hadn't spoken, jerking a thumb towards the cellar below. "You said her horror at the Crescent Butchers' seemed genuine when she spoke to you and your sisters, right?" Xander nodded. "Then it likely has nothing to do with Kagero, and they just moved Corrin when we broke out of prison."

Xander slammed a frustrated palm into the stone wall, wincing on contact but at least not breaking his knuckles. "But where would they take her? I doubt they have a second fort somewhere."

Laslow paused. "That… is a good point."

Xander shut his eyes for a moment, and his exhaustion hit him all at once. They easily had to have been working through this mess for over two days, by now, and with what little sleep the cellar had afforded them (and even less sustenance), he felt ready to collapse.

"Lord Xander," Peri said, and he immediately opened his eyes. "What if she's just upstairs?"

Both Xander and Laslow blinked a few times. "I beg pardon?" said the former.

"Upstairs." Peri gestured upwards.

Xander appeared at a bit of a loss for words. "Are we not on the top floor?"

"Look over there," Peri insisted, firmly pointing upwards.

Xander followed her line of sight across the ceiling stonework. There seemed to be nothing but wooden crossbeams and the occasional sconce. He was about to recommend Peri take a nap, but then he saw it: a small, iron ring, nearly flush with the surrounding stone.

"Peri," Xander said as he strode forward to get a better look, "remind me to nominate you for a Nohrian Star when we return."

Peri squeaked in surprise; Laslow grinned hugely and reached over to squeeze her shoulder in congratulations. Xander didn't notice either of them as he studied the little iron ring. It was too far over head for him to reach—and if _he_ couldn't, neither could Laslow or Peri—and so he set about looking for a chair or trunk or something to stand on.

Laslow, however, had a better idea. "Peri, love, why don't you get on my shoulders and see if you can get that?"

Peri's brow scrunched in thought as she glanced back up to the iron ring. Her mental math told her that Laslow wouldn't be tall enough to get her up there, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings—or worse, his injury. "I don't want to bother your ribs," she said. "Lord Xander, can I borrow your shoulders?"

Xander heaved yet another put-upon sigh, and glanced about the narrow hallway one more time, as if he could will a chair into being by sheer force of will and decorum. "First I spit on my retainer, and now we're playing chicken." He stooped to allow Peri to hop up on his back, and let out a startled "Oof!" when their chestplates collided. "My mother is rolling in her grave."

"I think Queen Katerina would rather you be alive than a slave to decorum, Lord Xander," Laslow pointed out as Peri reached for the iron ring. She made a face, and climbed further up Xander's back, until she was sitting on his shoulders proper. She stretched to her full height and her fingers just managed to wrap around the iron ring.

"It's okay if you need to move quickly when I open this, Lord Xander," Peri said, "I won't fall."

"Duly noted," Xander grunted, his grip tightening on Peri's legs.

She yanked hard, and with a horrible, grinding sound, the trapdoor came free. Peri coughed as dust rained down, and a rope ladder rolled out from the darkness above. It stopped a foot or so above the floor.

"That looks promising," Laslow said, coming over to help Peri down from Xander's shoulders.

She shifted her weight, trying to slide down Xander's back instead of falling all six feet to the floor, but missed her mark, and instead fell sideways. Laslow managed to break her fall, more so than catch her, and he let out a pained grunt as it jostled his damn injury.

"This is really getting to be irritating," he muttered, pressing a hand to his bloody ribs.

Peri winced. "I'm sorry."

Xander took one look at his retainers, and knew what he had to do. "Guard the entrance. I'll go on ahead."

"You can't go by yourself, Lord Xander," Peri said stubbornly, folding her arms across her chest.

"I must agree," Laslow said, although his face was twisted in searing pain.

Xander smiled, but it was tired and lopsided. "I'll try not to get into too much trouble, alright? Both of you, guard this… ladder."

Peri made a face as Xander passed her his lance. Laslow did his best to the hold the rope ladder steady as Xander climbed up, reaching back for his lance when he was just a rung or two short of the narrow, rectangular hole in the ceiling. Peri passed it back up to him, butt-end first, and then Xander squeezed through the opening. For the first time since this damn mission began, he was glad not to be wearing his usual armor. He wasn't entirely convinced he could have fit through this opening, with those shoulder pauldrons.

The ladder led to a small room so dark, Xander's eyes took several moments to adjust. There was no furniture up here, just a weapons rack on the wall and a lot of straw. Once his eyes had adjusted, he realized that there _was_ a bit of light in the room—and it was purple.

His heart leapt at the sight of Siegfried, suspended on the wall from the wooden weapons rack. Beside it was the Yato, its four circular notches and filigreed hilt illuminated by the faint light of his beloved sword. If the Yato were here, it meant Corrin had to be nearby. Why separate woman and weapon by leagues when a few locks would do?

Xander pulled himself more fully into the room, and set down his borrowed lance. His breathing was reverent as he retrieved Siegfried, and the sword felt blessedly familiar in his hand. The hilt was warm, as though he had just set it down for a moment. He carefully fitted it into the loop at his hip, and then picked up the Yato. The blade was oddly unbalanced in his hand; he wondered how Corrin could stand it.

Xander lay on his belly to poke his head through the trapdoor. Laslow and Peri were standing dutifully at the foot of the ladder, chatting aimlessly about something. Not for the first time, Xander thanked the Dusk Dragon that his retainers had become such fast friends (and then some). Niles and Odin had a cordial relationship at best, and he knew it wore on Leo.

Laslow and Peri both looked up to him expectantly. "Orders, milord?" Laslow asked.

"Hold this," he said, threading the Yato through the trapdoor.

"You found it!" Peri said.

Laslow climbed up a few rungs to take the Yato. "Was Siegfried up there, too?"

"Mercifully, yes."

Peri excitedly clapped her hands together as Laslow joined her back on the floor. He eyed the Yato warily, as if it would bite him at any moment. "Should we come up there?" Laslow called.

"Not yet," Xander said, removing his head from the trapdoor again.

By Siegfried's dim purple light, Xander found more homeless weapons on the walls. Some were ornate, like Siegfried and the Yato, but some were just plain steel or even silver. What was the purpose of this room? It was too out of the way and too hidden to be an armory.

Xander nearly missed the doorknob nestled between a Hoshidan-style bow ( _yumi,_ his childhood lessons supplied) and a dual katana, it was so small and nearly flush with the wall. He loosely gripped Siegfried's hilt while he quietly turned the knob.

The scent of blood hit him first, but it was old, and metallic. He was suddenly very glad he'd told Peri to wait below; he could never quite predict how the woman would react to things that ordinarily horrified people—namely blood, but also attention.

The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone. There was a small, likely female figure chained to the far wall. Her hair was matted with dried blood, and her arms were splotched with dark purple bruises. As Xander drew closer, he could make out more injuries and open wounds in Siegfried's dim light—lacerations up her arms and legs, puncture wounds, and even what appeared to be a cigar burn on the fleshy underside of her forearm.

And then his heart clenched.

"Gods above," he breathed, one hand reaching to press against his mouth, " _Corrin."_

At his voice, she stirred, groaning in evident pain as she raised her head. One of her eyes was circled in black, and her lower lip was split and apparently had been for a while, because blood had dried down her chin and no one had bothered to wipe it away.

She blinked a few times—well, the one eye did; the other was sealed shut from the bruising—and squinted through the semidarkness. _"Xander?"_

That voice was like music to his ears—more invigorating than Azura's song, and left him twice as breathless. "I'm here, little princess." He couldn't help but curve a hand around her unbruised cheek; he needed to know that she was real.

Corrin breathed a sigh of relief, warm breath ghosting across Xander's sore wrist. "Thank the gods." Her voice was pained and oddly breathy, like she couldn't get enough support beneath it. "I was afraid I would die down here."

"Never." Xander had to mentally instruct himself several times before he could remove his hand. He turned his attention to the cuffs keeping Corrin suspended.

"The big one has a key," she told him, still only half sounding like herself.

"You mean Sanjiro?" Xander glanced down to see her reaction, and immediately wished he hadn't. She was _far_ too close.

"The bald one with the axe?" Corrin clarified. Xander nodded, fixing his eyes back on the cuffs. "Yeah, him."

Xander couldn't help but smile. "I have his key ring." He pulled the offending bits of metal out of the inside pocket of his robes, and began fittings keys into the locks around her wrists.

Corrin's inhaled sharply. "Did you kill him?"

Xander shook his head, still trying keys. "Peri did."

Corrin tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a whooshing noise. "Remind me to grant her a royal boon, when we get out of here."

"Oh, trust me," Xander said, "I'm nominating her for the Nohrian Star when we return home."

"I'll second that honor," Corrin said as her right hand came free. "Is Laslow here, too?"

Xander fitted the key into the other lock and gave it a twist. "Of course."

"Good." Corrin ripped her left hand free.

And immediately buckled under her own weight. Xander caught her before she hit the deck, and Corrin squeezed him so tightly around the middle he thought she might well crack a rib. She pressed her ruined face into his chest, and Xander allowed himself the liberty to press his forehead against the crown of her head. He breathed in slowly, and beneath the blood and sweat, she still smelled faintly of lavender and incense—like herself.

For the first time in three days, Xander felt the tension (mostly) leave his body. Without Laslow and Peri to set an example for, or bandits to murder him, Xander could finally admit what he previously could not:

"You had us all terrified, Corrin."

"I'm sorry." Her voice was muffled by his armor. "I'm sure Camilla gave you the what for."

"And you're next," he reminded her.

Corrin made a huffing noise, and extracted herself far enough to look up at him. "Do you think she'd wait until I can see out of my one eye?"

"Maybe." Xander pulled a mock thoughtful face to avoid looking down at her. "You are her favorite sibling."

Corrin snorted, and let go of him. She was still unsteady on her feet, but at least able to stand. Xander didn't fully release her until he was certain she wouldn't keel over, but did so regretfully, anyhow.

But there was one other thing he had to ask, as much for his own sanity as for her possible aid: "Corrin, did they hurt you… anywhere else?"

Corrin blinked at him a few times. "I mean, yes? I'm covered in wounds." The glare she earned was cutting, and that's when it dawned on her. "Oh Xander, you needn't worry about my honor. They seemed more interested in bleeding royal blood out of the 'Hoshidan traitor' than in my sex."

Xander simultaneously winced and huffed in relief. "I was more worried for you than your honor, but that's what Kagero figured."

"Kagero's here?" Corrin asked as led the way out of the torture cell. She winced at the light coming up through the trapdoor.

Xander's eyes were merely watering—"How do you think we found you?"—as he laid down on his belly yet again to poke his head through the doorframe.

"I've got her," he announced to his retainers. "But she, uh, isn't in much condition to climb down."

"Hey!" Corrin shouted from behind him, causing both Laslow and Peri to laugh. She struggled to lower herself onto her belly to join her brother in peering through the trapdoor. "I am perfectly—! Oh." She stopped short at the sight of the rope ladder.

"Hoo." Laslow whistled at the sight of Corrin's face. "Lady Corrin, that is a _shiner."_

Peri waved cheerfully. "Hi, Lady Corrin! We have your Yato!" She held up the blade, as if in proof.

Corrin laughed, and the sound was slowly returning to the one Xander cherished. "Thank you, Peri! I hear I've you to thank for taking care of that bald brute, as well?"

Peri beamed. "He bled a lot."

Xander glanced over just in time to catch Corrin shaking her head. "Corrin, are you _certain_ you don't want me to just lower you down and have Laslow catch you?"

Corrin started to worry her bottom lip, but winced as soon as her teeth made contact with the cut. She sighed hugely. "I suppose. But tell _no one."_

Xander flinched back from the finger she jabbed toward his face. "Of course." He glanced back downstairs. "Did you both catch that?" Both of his retainers nodded. 'Then Peri, would you kindly climb about halfway up to help guide Corrin?"

Peri nodded and began her ascent, while Xander and Corrin removed themselves from the narrow doorway. As Xander looped his arms under Corrin's, he heard her murmur, "Thank you, big brother."

And although the once-accurate term now hurt his heart, he forced himself to smile, so she could hear it in his voice. "Of course, little princess."

 **-)**

 **This chapter turned out to be a bit of a doozy, but honestly, I just wanted to get them out of prison. I didn't figure anyone would mind ;p :)**

 **Guest: Glad you enjoyed the chapter! What's your new headcanon, may I ask?**


	21. Chapter 21

Kagero was nervously pacing back and forth in front of the main door to the Crescent Butchers' fort. She had been debating entering for over an hour now, but knew that should the worst happen, there was no way she could fight all the Crescent Butchers alone. She'd already done reconnaissance for every possible entrance (and window, and roof leak, and sewer pipe), and had determined the risk to be very high, indeed. There were fewer enemies than there were even yesterday, and so she assumed Lord Xander and the others had broken free, somehow. But could they last on their own? Should she be with them?

But her worry was for naught, for at that exact moment, Xander, Laslow, and Peri appeared with an injured Corrin in tow. Kagero let off a very unprofessional whoop as she hugged Lord Ryoma's younger sister in his stead. But then she turned to the Nohrians.

Lord Xander looked absolutely exhausted, Laslow's wound at re-opened at his side, and Peri's face was a mess of blood and mascara. And that was to say nothing of Lady Corrin, who had clearly suffered at the Crescent Butchers' hands. Kagero grimaced at the battered sight of all of them, but said with sincerity, "I am glad to see you all well."

"He's dead," Peri announced cheerfully.

Kagero blinked at the maniac cavalier in the Crown Prince's employ. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sanjiro," Peri expanded. "You hated him, right? Well, he's dead."

Kagero's jaw actively dropped at the news, and Xander felt a little bad for doubting her. The ninja glanced to the prince. "Did you do this?"

Xander shook his head, and his wavy hair had grown so sweaty it didn't even move from where it had stuck to his face. "Peri wanted to be the one to bring you the good news."

Kagero turned back to the woman with a newfound degree of respect. "I… I can't believe this." She made a noise that was almost like a laugh. " _Thank you."_ She bowed low to Peri in the utmost sign of respect, for a Hoshidan. "You've helped bring some honor back to the Chiyome clan."

She straightened back up, and surveyed the motely group of Nohrians in front of her. "I don't suppose you want to make camp and rest, do you Lord Xander?"

"Of course not," he huffed, "it's only a few hours back to camp and this place is…" He glanced over his shoulder and searched for a word. "…grim."

"Haunted, I'd say," Laslow said, shivering.

Even in her victory, Peri's eyes held a touch of something sad. "Horrible."

"A damn blight on humanity," Corrin muttered.

Kagero sighed and fell into step alongside the four of them. She let Laslow, Peri, and Corrin get ahead of her, and pulled Lord Xander aside (such as it was, on the road). "I found this outside the fortress, milord." Kagero reached into a pouch at her belt, and withdrew a chain of golden discs. "You wouldn't happen to know what it is, would you?"

Xander studied it for a long moment. "I believe that belongs to Laslow." He held out his calloused hand.

"Lord Xander, there's no need to trouble yourself. I can—" She pulled up short at the calculating look Lord Xander was giving her. It was the same one that Lord Ryoma had. "Of course." She tipped her hand, and the gold chain pooled in Xander's hand.

"Thank you, Kagero," he said, with genuine feeling. "You are most observant."

-)

It was a full twelve hours before Xander and his retinue (such as it was) returned to the campsite (such as _it_ was). Which is to say, completely barren. Camilla had left Selena in her stead, and the Ylissean expat had been pacing the same patch of earth in increasing irritation right up until she had been stumbled upon.

In a rare display of emotion, Selena's brown eyes widened in shock—"Thank _Naga,_ you're all safe!" she shouted—and bull-rushed Laslow in a hug so fierce, she nearly tackled him. He weakly patted her back as she squeezed his injury further.

Xander and Corrin exchanged a look—which they were then happy to let Peri in on—while Kagero merely cocked her head and studied Selena's movements, as if looking for an imposter.

Selena then violently let go of Laslow, and completely ignored the tears blurring her vision by shouting, " _Do you have any idea how STUPID you are?"_

Corrin snorted and Kagero relaxed, whereas Xander immediately turned his attention to other matters, and Peri began to giggle. That was Selena, alright.

" _Odin and I have been worried sick, you damned hero! You could have been killed, you idiot!"_

Laslow had his hands up, palms out, as if he could possibly placate her. "Selena, dove, it's alright; I'm alright—"

 _"What the hell would I have told your father?"_

Xander felt a rush of shame. He knew about Laslow's mother, of course—the man was free enough talking about her, and her passing—but he had no idea Laslow's father was still living. Should he have been allotting time for Laslow to visit home on occasion? Been sending Yuletide cards to the family? It was bad enough he didn't know whom to contact to at least tend to Laslow's mother's grave, as he did for Peri's mother's.

But then Laslow's face shut down hard, and Xander realized he'd worried for nothing. It made his heart ache for his friend. "Nothing he would mourn, I'm sure," Laslow said lowly. "I would have given my life for my liege, and done so gladly."

"You are not Frederick," Selena hissed.

"And _you_ are not Cordelia."

The way that Selena's face expanded in shock, and then shut down hard, led Xander to believe the topic of Selena's mother to be incredibly, woefully off-limits. She looked gutted. "We aren't talking about me," the redhead said hotly.

"And how is my brother doing?" Corrin asked Kagero loudly, in an attempt to give Selena and Laslow as much privacy as could possibly be afforded.

Xander loved her a little more for it, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he moved closer to the two mercenaries as Kagero responded, equally as loudly, "Both of them are quite well, milady. Undoubtedly, they will reach Kimorano on schedule…"

"We have a job to do," Selena was hissing to Laslow, taking full advantage of Corrin and Kagero's cover. Xander almost couldn't hear her.

"And I _did_ it," Laslow argued, gesturing to Xander and Corrin.

Selena studied him for another moment, and then said, uncharacteristically quietly, "Inigo, you _swore_ to me that would you stop doing this."

 _Inigo?_ Xander wondered, almost missing Laslow's response: "Doing what? My duty?"

"Shutting everyone out!"

 _That_ gave Laslow pause. "I'm sorry," he said, staring down at his boots. "I forget just how much you really see."

"Great, then stop being a dick to people who care about you."

"And _you're_ going to lecture me on that," Laslow fired back, "are you?"

Selena's eyes narrowed. "First of all, that is my shtick. Second of all, I know I'm not one to talk about this, so at least you know I'm speaking from experience!"

Laslow sighed, and rubbed at his aching ribs. "Is Odin angry with me, as well?"

"Not exactly," Selena said. "He's… well, he's disappointed. Not for going after Corrin, of course, but for refusing aid."

Laslow attempted to brush her off. "There were others who needed it far more than I did."

"You _know_ he could have at least healed your surface wounds." Selena drew closer to him. "And then _maybe_ you wouldn't have come back four days later, bleeding and dead on your feet."

Odin was a healer? This was news to Xander. He strained to catch more of their conversation beneath Kagero and Corrin's much louder, far less interesting one about the princes of Hoshido.

"My dear friend," Laslow said, "I _lived._ Is that not enough?"

Selena was having none of it. "You know it isn't."

Laslow sighed, and he drew Selena into far gentler hug. Behind Xander's shoulder, Peri scowled, and looked away. "I'm sorry to have worried you," Laslow said after another moment.

Selena gripped his back fiercely. "Don't go off and be a damned hero," she said. "I have enough trouble wrangling Odin. War is no time for heroes."

"Just survivors," Laslow agreed, and it sounded like something the two had said many a time.

Just _what_ was going on, here? If she wasn't angry with him for doing his duty—which it sounded like Selena wasn't—that what in the gods' name was she so furious with Laslow over? Nearly dying? They all did that every day.

The weight of Laslow's mother's chain was heavy in his breast pocket. The longer Xander waited to return it to its rightful owner, the angrier (and less informative) Laslow would be, and beyond that, Xander was not cruel.

His fist curled tightly around Siegfried's pommel. The time for secrets was over.

-)

Camilla had practically been beside herself when Xander's motley crew arrived at the Laughing Bear. There had, quite simply, been too many injured to continue sleeping out in the open, she'd said between crushing hugs and frequent scolding, and so she'd pressed everyone onward to Kimorano—more specifically, to the inn Ryoma had indicated in his letter.

She shooed Laslow, Peri, and Corrin up to the resident Shrine Maiden's room, informing everyone that she'd already paid the woman a flat rate for the week, and pulled Xander aside the instant he came back downstairs from setting his things in a room and ensuring his charges were looked after.

"What happened out there?" Camilla said bluntly, folding her arms across her chest.

Xander sighed hugely. "Before or after the failed frontal assault?"

Camilla blinked—once, twice, thrice—and then said, "You sound like you need an ale."

"I'd settle for dinner, first," Xander muttered, following his sister back into the main room.

They seated themselves at the bar, and Camilla flagged down the bartender in half the time it would have taken Xander. She ordered a bowl of the evening's pottage, and two glasses of the Hoshidan-style pilsner for which the tavern was apparently famous.

Xander did his best not to poke at the fragrant stew the bartender set before him, but the habit of identifying his meals was far too ingrained for even decorum to strike down. He determined long, thin noodles, beans, and some sort of leafy, green vegetable to be floating about the broth, sipped a cautious mouthful. The taste of Mirin cooking wine and something that was sort of like basil exploded pleasantly across his tongue.

"Take small sips," Camilla advised over the lip of her glass. "You'll make yourself sick."

Xander snorted, narrowly missing his bowl. "Yes, sister," he teased.

"Trust me," Camilla said. "If that sits anything on your stomach like it does mine, you'll thank me later." Xander's eyes lost their teasing lilt as he studied the stew-like concoction a bit more closely. "I doubt you've eaten anything substantial in three days."

Clever Camilla, telling him how long they'd been gone without alerting the entire barroom. "That I have not," he agreed

She let him eat in relative peace, and didn't speak again until the tavern had begun to empty for the night. "So tell me," she began in a low voice, "what happened with the Crescent Butchers?"

Xander relayed the events of the last several days—beginning with Kagero leading them to the fort, and ending with stumbling upon Selena at the old campground. "And thank you for that, by the way," Xander added.

"I could hardly leave a note," Camilla said. "Who knows who would have seen it, or even if it would have still been there?"

"A valid point." Xander took a sip from the glass in his hand, steeling himself against the incredibly bitter hops. This ale was considered _pleasant,_ in Hoshido?

"How is Corrin doing?" Camilla pressed.

"About as well as she can be, all things considered." Xander didn't miss that Camilla's hands tightened around her glass. He too dropped his voice to add: "She mentioned her torment didn't involve the, uh…" Xander coughed as he searched for a word. "… _basest_ aspects of a person, so we can at least count that amongst her blessings."

Camilla's violet eyes shot open wide, and her hand tightened so sharply, Xander was half convinced she'd snap her glass in two. "A bitter mercy," she said, her voice short and harsh, although Xander knew it had little to do with him. "Have you seen the rest of her?"

"Obviously not," Xander said, unable to stop himself from sounding short, either.

Camilla shut her eyes, counted internally to ten, and then opened them again. When she spoke, her voice was far softer. "You were right to run off when you did. Delaying would have only made things worse."

"I know." Xander took another sip of ale, and this one wasn't quite so hateful as the last. "Why else would I push myself so hard?"

"Because you love her."

Xander's response was rote: "She is my sister; of course I do." It grew more genuine as he added, "And if you dare tell me you don't think I would go chasing off after you in just as few heartbeats, you don't know me nearly so well as you think you do."

"No, I know you would." Camilla smiled—a little one, but it was there. "It's one of your best and worst qualities. Likely to get you killed, you know."

"If I die in place of one of my dear siblings, so be it." Xander managed a tired, equally-as-small smile.

Camilla sighed. "I feel the same."

They clinked glasses.

"Oh, and how are Peri and Laslow?" Camilla added. "She looked like she fell into the Arrowhead Channel, back home, and his wound looks _angry."_ She paused. "Speaking of angry, what _did_ he do to piss off Selena so? She's worse than usual."

"That—" Xander thumped down his glass. "—is a very good question."

"You don't know either, eh?" Camilla held up two purple-nailed fingers over the bar, and the bartender disappeared into the back again.

"I have a hunch," Xander said, rolling his now-empty glass from one hand to the other. "At first, it seemed as though I was simply watching her come to terms with the reality of Laslow's duty as a retainer, but…"

Xander paused when the bartender appeared with two more glasses of beer, and waited until the man was out of earshot again before continuing. "…But she isn't angry with him for going after Corrin. She seems…" Xander struggled to recall the conversation from this afternoon. He was just so abominably _tired._ "…angry with him for running off and apparently behaving like his father."

"His father?' Camilla questioned.

"A man by the name of Frederick, apparently." Xander glanced to his younger sister.

Camilla shook her head at the unasked question.

"Damn," Xander said softly, taking another sip of ale. Really, once you got past the bitterness, it wasn't so bad. A bit like learning to drink coffee, really.

"Has he ever mentioned that his father is still living?" Camilla asked.

"Not that I can recall," Xander said.

"Hmm." Camilla took a swig of ale. If Xander couldn't remember, it had likely never been said. "Would Peri know anything?"

Xander took a thoughtful sip of ale as he considered it. "She may."

Camilla glanced over her shoulder to the tavern behind them. Pockets of their friends and allies had taken over the main room, now that they could speak more freely. There was no sign of Laslow or Selena, but Peri was sitting with Beruka and Niles, giggling at something (undoubtedly lewd) that the latter had said as she dipped bits of white bread into the same kind of pottage Xander had been eating earlier. Odin was a few tables over, listening to one of Kaze and Kagero's joint tales with rapt attention. No doubt, he would blow it up into a fantastical version later.

Camilla turned back to Xander. "I'd feel less guilty about tricking Odin into telling us something."

"Agreed," said the Crown Prince. "I just don't think he'd tell us anything."

Camilla observed Odin out of the corner of her eye for a moment. "He's drunk," she announced.

"So? He's managed to keep his secrets from Leo— _and Niles_ —this long."

Camilla was forced to admit, he had a point. Nevertheless, she gestured to her prodigious cleavage. "Do you not think I could handle it?"

Xander's forehead immediately gained three worry lines. "First of all, look down."

Camilla did so, and immediately cursed. She'd forgotten, she was wearing the irritatingly modest Hoshidan Kinshi Knight armor—or most of it, anyway. The headpiece was a real bother, and why _did_ Kinshi knights require such restricting leggings, anyway? Camilla had done away with them ages ago.

"Second of all," Xander added, "I _knew_ you did that on purpose!"

"Of course I do!" Camilla huffed. "Why would I expose myself to arrow fire without a good reason?"

"There _is_ no good reason." Xander felt oddly like Selena as he stopped himself from tacking on the word 'idiot.' "Cut your formalwear however you please, but I will _not_ have my sister and heir dying of her own aesthetic!"

Camilla looked genuinely surprised. "I'm your heir?"

Xander was at a momentary loss, having expected an entirely different rebuttal. "Of course you are," he said hoarsely. "Leo only came of age a year ago—and beyond that, I believe you'd make a better monarch, anyhow."

Camilla was, inexplicably, overwhelmed at the news. "I had no idea," she said softly.

In a rare show of physical affection, Xander put a hand to her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "There's another secret father intended to keep from us, then."

Camilla seemed to be at a genuine loss, all of her energy for scheming sucked out of her. "Do you hate him?" she asked quietly.

Xander almost asked who, purely out of the desire to tease. "Sometimes," he admitted. "But then other times, I just remember the father who used to ask me about my lessons over dinner and occasionally sneak me mulled cider on those nights when I couldn't sleep."

"You're lucky to have such memories." Camilla's voice was sincere, even if her hands were taut on her glass.

"I mourn that you don't," Xander said quietly.

Camila shut her eyes, counted to ten, and then elegantly wiped the moisture from them. "So," she said shakily, glancing back over to Xander, "shall we bother Peri, or Odin?"

"Neither," Xander decided. "I won't need to."

Camilla arched one delicate, newly-brown eyebrow. "You have a plan?"

Xander reached into his breast pocket, and removed the golden chain. It glittered in his palm as he tipped his hand toward Camilla. "Better," he said, slipping it back into his pocket. "I have leverage."

Camilla studied her older brother for a long moment. Subterfuge was unlike him, and yet—"I forget, sometimes, that you survived the Succession War, too."

Something hardened in Xander's expression. "Pity our father didn't."

 **-)**

 **Laslow: Too late lol**

 **Guest: exactly. I'd had enough of the prison arc, and I'm certain everyone else had, too. Or just about, anyway.**


	22. Chapter 22

Three days later, the Hoshidan retinue arrived.

As he and Ryoma had agreed in their letters, Xander, Camilla, and Corrin were all seated at a table intended for six. _Unlike_ in the letters, however, Xander had strategically placed the rest of their crew throughout the tavern. In the event that this all turned out to be one giant trap, at least _some_ of them might make it out alive.

Beruka and Selena were seated at the bar, having been nursing the same glasses of ale for over an hour, now. Niles, Odin, and Kaze were playing dice over in the corner nearest to the door. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the game, as Niles had won the last four in a row. Laslow and Peri were seated across from each other in one of the booths, deep in conversation over the dregs of a meal (but keeping watchful eyes on the room beyond). Kagero was absent, having been sent ahead to make contact with Prince Ryoma and act as a bit of insurance for the Nohrians, who had only ever seen the Hoshidan royal family a handful of times—and on the battlefield, no less.

Sometime around midday, several figures came through the door, bringing the late summer wind in with them. One of the men had deeply brown hair pulled back into a samurai-style topknot and a calculating stare. The other was far shorter, and had white hair cropped close to his skull. He seemed almost skittish in comparison. The woman who entered with them had violently red hair, a bit like Selena, and seemed largely composed of lean, hard lines.

Corrin leaned over to her siblings to whisper, "That's them. Ryoma, Takumi, and Hinoka."

Xander opened his mouth to say something about Kagero not being with them, but the woman herself then came through the door—right alongside the red-haired, one-eyed ninja who had aided her in the delivery of Lord Ryoma's original letter. _Saizo,_ Xander remembered a moment later. The two ninja asked to play dice with his men, and Niles, Odin, and Kaze graciously made room for the two at their table.

"Brother!" Corrin called across the room, making both Xander and Camilla jump.

Ryoma's calculating gaze landed on the three of them, but it was rather undermined when he broke into a smile. "Sister!"

Corrin sprang from her chair to embrace him. She then turned to Hinoka, who looked equally as thrilled to see her younger sister and pulled the red-haired princess into a hug to rival Camilla's. But when Corrin turned to Takumi, he folded his arms stubbornly across his sternum. Corrin deflated, and after a moment, extended her hand. Takumi made a point to ignore it, and looked to Xander and Camilla.

"In-laws," he said with a disdainful incline of his head.

" _Takumi,"_ Hinoka hissed over Corrin's head, "they have _names."_

It had been as a good a cover as any—pretending the two royal families were each other's in-laws through Corrin, and her mysterious and as-of-yet-absent husband (the joke amongst the Nohrian retinue was that it was Silas, for ease of the disguise).

"It's better than 'Nohrian scum,'" Xander said, forcibly lightly, as he, too, got to his feet to shake hands with Ryoma. The High Prince of Hoshido had a formidable grip.

"You're looking well," said Ryoma.

It was easily the most generic thing Xander had ever heard. "And you, as well." He turned stiffly to Hinoka, whose grip was, inexplicably, even _stronger_ than her older brother's. "Hinoka, as ever, a pleasure."

"You'll have to excuse my little brother," she said, trying and failing to disguise the tightness in her voice. "Takumi never did learn any _manners."_ She shot him a glare that Xander had a stifle a laugh at.

"No harm done," Xander assured her.

He turned to Takumi and extended a hand anyhow. Something angry flashed in the white-haired prince's eyes, but he still shook Xander's hand. Xander immediately noticed the odd placement of callouses, and pinned the younger prince as some sort of bow knight.

By this point, Camilla had also gotten to her feet. "Hinoka, darling," she said, pulling the princess into a shallow hug.

"Camilla," Hinoka grunted, clearly uncomfortable.

Camilla moved on to Ryoma, pulling the prince into a hug that was as formidable as Xander's handshake. "Ryoma, dear, how lovely to see you."

Ryoma was suddenly struck by the sense that, as intimidating as Xander was, it was Camilla whose bad side he would really rather avoid. "Camilla! You're lovely as ever."

Camilla released him and turned to Takumi, who was glaring something fierce. "Little Takumi," she said with a sickly-sweet smile. _"My,_ how much you've grown." She pinched his cheeks in the same way she did with Leo and Corrin, and Takumi appeared too stunned to stop her. Hinoka snickered at his discomfort, and Ryoma was actively stifling a grin with the back of his hand.

Despite that, it was a very tense set of royalty that seated themselves around the table. As he reclaimed his chair, Xander noted that several more Hoshidans had entered the tavern during their exchange. A woman with navy hair and a fetchingly-tailored kimono was chatting with a burly, brown-haired man with a topknot like Ryoma's near the bar, and a woman with an elaborate purple updo and the diviner's uniform was reading tarot fortunes in the booth beside Laslow and Peri's. An empty glass sat near her hand that she was apparently using to collect tips.

"Kagero told us of your unfortunate run-in with the Crescent Butchers," Ryoma said as soon as their server disappeared with their order. "Truly, I am grateful you took care of that menace."

Xander waved him off. "Think nothing of it. They _did_ take something rather dear, after all." He glanced pointedly to Corrin, and Ryoma's jaw dropped a little and Hinoka's eyes widened almost comically. Xander couldn't help but notice they were a particularly warm shade of brown—and that Takumi's were a similar color, though full of disdain.

"We know you love your sword, brother," Corrin teased, and both Xander and Camilla snorted.

"Well," Ryoma said, "I'm sure there's something we both agree on."

The three Nohrians nodded. They had heard stories of the legendary katana, Raijinto—to say nothing of its wielder.

Their server reappeared at that moment with a tray full of drinks. She passed beers to Hinoka and Ryoma, and a small, handle-less teacup to Takumi. Xander was surprised to find yet more Hoshidans entering the tavern, although he knew he really shouldn't have been. A blue-haired woman in the archer's uniform had stridden through the door and almost immediately knocked her hip painfully into the nearest table corner, and the wild-haired monk behind her merely sighed and steered her away from the table, slipping a healing rod out of its holster on his back. Xander was vaguely reminded of Arthur and Effie.

 _Well,_ he thought dismally, _at least we'll have a healer, now._

"That reminds me," Corrin said as the server left again, "Camilla, would you care to third Peri for the Nohrian Star?"

"Oh, absolutely _,"_ said Camilla.

"Who is Peri?" Ryoma asked politely.

"Over my shoulder," Xander instructed, "do you see the woman with the blue hair, in the booth?" After a moment, Ryoma, Hinoka, and Takumi all nodded. "That is my retainer, Lady Peri. She's the one who killed the Butchers' leader, Sanjiro."

Something dangerously close to respect flickered across Ryoma's severe features. "Well, I shall have to thank her for Kagero's sake—unofficially, unfortunately."

"The Nohrian Star," Takumi began, "that's your highest military honor, is it not?"

All three Nohrian siblings nodded gravely. "Xander has already earned one, actually," Camilla said, deceptively lightly. "For the Ice Tribe Uprising, a few years ago."

"I still don't believe I earned that," Xander muttered into the rim of his glass. It was why he didn't wear it pinned to his paladin armor.

"Well, I'm sure you're just being modest," Hinoka said diplomatically at the same time Takumi said, "Don't tell me you feel _guilty_ about crushing those poor, defenseless natives?"

Xander's eyes narrowed but it was Camilla who said, "Takumi, would I be correct in assuming you're the middle child?"

Takumi studied her for a moment, trying to determine the purpose of the change in subject. "I am, sort of. Hinoka is the upper middle child, I suppose."

"Hmm." Camilla hummed thoughtfully. "You simply remind me of my own younger brother, Leo. He's equally as prickly. Poor thing. Must be a dreadful way to go through life."

It took Takumi a moment to register that he'd been insulted, and by then, Ryoma had steered the conversation to the task at hand. "I didn't want to put all the details in letters, for obvious reasons," Ryoma began quietly, "but since we're all here, shall we begin?"

And six heads bent together over the table.

-)

To Beruka, the Shrine Maiden's room smelled like death.

Not because people had died in it, which was the usual reason something smelled like death, but because of the sheer number of herbs and poultices that were arrayed across various surfaces. It smelled like an infirmary, and infirmaries to Beruka would always smell like death.

"Greetings, my child," said the Shrine Maiden when Beruka entered, although she didn't seem to be much older than Lady Camilla and thus had little business calling Beruka 'child.' "Does your wound still trouble you?"

"No." Beruka dropped to her knees beside the woman. How these Hoshidans managed to sit _seiza_ style for ages on end was an utter mystery to her. Already, Beruka's thighs were crying out for a damn chair. "I… had a question."

The Shrine Maiden's gaze was warm. "Speak it, then."

"Before I do," Beruka said, unable to look the woman in the eye, "do you swear to keep it secret?"

"Unless it will wound someone or you are confessing to a crime, yes."

Ordinarily, Beruka would have found the stipulations amusing. But as it was, she drew in a deep breath, and then met the Shrine Maiden's gaze head on. "Can you tell me if I'm pregnant?"

The Shrine Maiden's facial expression did not change. "Of course. But the easiest and most effective way is a question—have you had recent and regular intimate relations with a man?"

Beruka nodded, somewhat uneasily.

"And," the Shrine Maiden continued, "I take it that your monthly bleeding is late?"

Again, Beruka nodded.

"Then you are, very likely, pregnant, my child."

"I want to be certain," Beruka said.

The Shrine Maiden smiled again, and Beruka was shocked at the sheer lack of judgement in the woman's expression. "I suppose that's fair, given your line of work." It took Beruka a moment to realize that the woman meant the mercenary she posed as, not the assassin she truly was. "I hope you aren't squeamish; I shall need to examine you again."

A few minutes later, Beruka was lying flat on her back on the Shrine Maiden's spare bed with her abdominal armor off. The Shrine Maiden pressed this way and that on her belly, her facial expression betraying nothing. After a few more minutes, she bade Beruka to sit up, and seated herself on a stool.

"It's still a bit too soon to tell," she said, "but I'm fairly certain you _are_ pregnant, dear." The Shrine Maiden broke into a smile. "Congratulations!"

Beruka stared at her for a long moment, unsure of what to say. She supposed that the birth of a child was usually a joyful thing, but it certainly didn't feel like anything even vaguely encroaching that. In fact, in a lot of ways, it didn't feel like much of anything at all. But in some ways—the ones Beruka allowed herself to feel—it felt a lot like fear, anxiety, and responsibility.

The woman's smile shrank, though her face grew no less kind. "Have you told the father?"

Beruka nodded, curling her arms around her unarmored abdomen.

"And…" The Shrine Maiden looked for the words she needed in the Common Language. "What was his reaction?"

Beruka glanced to the woman, an eyebrow in her hairline. "He will help, if that's what you're asking."

"Good," said the Shrine Maiden firmly. "That's more than a lot of women have in this war, you know." Another thought seemed to occur to her. "Is he your husband?"

"No." Beruka stared down at her belly. How long until it would swell to the point that she couldn't wear armor? How long until this little creature became a target, itself? Would she teach it the art of assassination? Did she want to? "People like us don't get married."

"Forgive the harshness," the Shrine Maiden began, "but that's nonsense. Mercenary work hasn't preventing you from finding love, has it?"

 _Is that what I found?_ Beruka wondered. She wanted to tell the woman that she was an assassin and Niles was an outlaw and for the love of the gods, who had given them working reproductive parts?

"I thought not," the Shrine Maiden said, as if Beruka had been contemplating the question. "Now, in my professional opinion, you really ought to take a hiatus for the remainder of—"

"No," Beruka cut in. "I am finishing the mission."

For the first time, the Shrine Maiden grew visibly emotional. "You will put your child in danger!"

Beruka fixed her in a hard stare as she got to her feet. "My child…" How _odd_ to say. "…will be in more danger if I fail."

The Shrine Maiden studied Beruka as the assassin put on her armor once more. "You say that with such conviction," the holy woman said, "I feel I've no choice but to believe you."

Beruka nodded solemnly, and bowed clumsily in an attempt to show proper respect. She missed the small smile the woman gave her, as it was gone by the time she straightened up. Beruka then turned to go.

"Wait, child," the Shrine Maiden called.

Beruka froze, one hand on the doorknob. Waiting.

"The one-eyed man, with the white hair," the Shrine Maiden put forward. "It's him, isn't it?"

Beruka nodded tightly, for something had suddenly lodged in her throat, and then was gone.

 **-)**

 **Guest #1—Of course it does!**

 **Guest #2—well thank you. In a lot of ways, that's really what he and Camilla are**

 **Nimaka—What a quality-ass mental image lol**


	23. Chapter 23

The inn's stables were comfortably warm and predictably smelly, Xander decided the following morning. They were also blessedly quiet, unlike the Key Dragons' rooms. As a royal son, Xander had never had to share a bedroom, aside from the occasional military campaign. And although he would never complain aloud (except possibly to Camilla, and even then, probably not), he _did_ dislike the lack of privacy and silence.

He leaned against a wall and took a sip of coffee. It had been a private victory this morning to discover that the Hoshidan inn even carried the Nohrian drink, but Xander was not one to dissect blessings overmuch. The tavern had been too noisy to put up with first thing in the morning, and so he'd come out here, to the stables.

They were nothing like the royal stables at Castle Krakenburg, but Xander was pleasantly reminded of the astral plane. There were a few horses munching on hay and sleeping standing up, and a Pegasus or two. The lack of wyverns had initially struck him as odd, but Xander remembered that Hoshidans didn't care much for the beasts, and Camilla hadn't brought dear Ilse.

Xander felt his heart tug at the sight of a brown courser eerily similar to Leo's. What was his little brother doing this morning, he wondered? Coordinating troop movements? Studying magic in a few stolen moments of free time? Keeping Elise's mind occupied to prevent her from worrying? Missing Odin and Niles' banter despite himself?

Leo had never wanted a leadership role, and Xander knew that. His little brother simply wanted to be left alone with his books and his horse. He did his duty as befitting a prince of Nohr, but he had not been born and bred for court intrigue, as Xander had. He knew that this had been a grave disservice to Leo, but there was nothing to be done about it now, except his damnedest to give the boy the life he actually wanted.

 _The man,_ Xander corrected himself. _Leo is a man, now._

It was still a challenge for Xander to reconcile his younger siblings with the adults they'd become, sometimes. When Elise had been born, Xander had been in that awkward state of adolescence where his voice had begun to crack and his body had begun to feel too big and too small, all at once. Elise's mother, the concubine Daniella, had finally allowed visitors a week after the girl had been born, and Xander had been the first to see his new baby sister.

She had been born with a soft fuzz of blonde hair, and when the midwives had shown him how to hold the infant, Elise had opened her eyes—vibrantly violet, even then—and giggled at him. Well, she'd burbled, really, but that was the exact moment that Xander decided the Succession War needed to end. He had lost too many half-siblings already; he would not lose this little one, who was so happily nestled in his arms.

After that, he'd sought out Camilla, who had, even then, a reputation for being able to ferret out gossip with tact and aplomb. He proposed an alliance (using those _exact_ words; modern Xander could have laughed), and to his surprise, she'd immediately agreed. Back then, Camilla had been a timid little thing—her mother's doing, no doubt. Queen Katerina had never liked the concubine Inge, and so Xander never had, either. Which made Camilla's assent all the more surprising.

"Did you see the new baby, too?" Camilla's child-self had asked.

And Xander's child-self had nodded, and understood.

The alliance they'd formed had been formidable. Xander had the protection of Queen Katerina, even after her death, and Camilla had the courtly know-how to use it. They convinced some of their half-siblings to drop out of the race, so to speak, simply by planting the seed of inadequacy in their minds. King Garon largely stayed out of the concubines' infighting, deeming it beneath him, and so Xander and Camilla were all each other had.

At first, Dame Inge had been beyond thrilled that Camilla appeared to have befriended Queen Katerina's son, but it soon turned to annoyance, and then borderline treason when Camilla refused to move against him. As they grew older (and as Camilla's necklines dropped), Xander began to notice bruises that couldn't possibly from training or a wyvern. He began to hate Dame Inge, but Camilla always pleaded with him not to move against her mother, and so he stayed his hand.

When Leo had been introduced to the court, he had been a delicate youth a good five years younger than Camilla, and even more distanced from Xander. But something about him had struck the both of them. Maybe it was that he had violet eyes like Elise, who was now a toddler and still too young to be embroiled in the Succession War or even the court. Maybe it was the way that he clutched the book hidden away in his robe at dinner, as if he wanted nothing more than to slip between its pages and disappear. Maybe it was the news that one of their many half-siblings had been kidnapped and executed by Hoshido a few weeks prior. Or maybe it was simply that Xander wanted a little brother.

Whatever it was, Camilla and Xander had approached him the next day, and their duo became a trio.

Leo was still young enough that everyone thought his courtly gaffes were cute, and he used that to his advantage. He could pry for information practically with impunity, and he was often the only denizen of the library at any given moment. And so Xander took to studying in the library, as well, and Camilla would find excuses to bring them tea or little sweets she'd conned (later, flirted) out of the kitchen servants.

Xander wasn't sure when they'd started calling each other sibling in truth. They had always _been_ "sister" and "brother," of course, but it had been a courtesy title, an acknowledgement of Garon's inability to commit to a single woman for any significant length of time.

But the first time that he'd championed Leo's bladework as "Brother, that was excellent!" and Camilla's scheming as "Sister, that's genius! And also sort of terrible." and found a certain fondness in the titles, he knew.

He knew that family meant a lot more to him than it did to their father, and he knew that he would never, _ever_ take a concubine if he became king.

That love of family extended outward, too. Dedrick and Hildehrand had been loyal and chivalrous practically to a fault, and Xander had loved them as he did Camilla and Leo. Garon had admonished him for getting too attached to his retainers—on more than one occasion, too; Xander could vividly recall the bruises he had supposedly earned—but Xander didn't know another way to be. If caring about people was a bad thing, then the only thing that he could figure was that, somehow, the King was wrong.

Their deaths hit him exactly as hard as King Garon had predicted. They'd been surrounded on all sides by Hoshidan infantry—a scouting mission gone horribly wrong—and Dedrick had told Xander the words that would forever ring in his ears late at night:

"Save yourself, sire, we'll hold them back!"

Xander hadn't been much older than Elise was now, and not nearly so wise. He had wanted to reason with them, wanted not to leave them behind, but Hildehrand would have none of it. He practically shooed Xander away, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Dedrick, blocking Xander from the front line. It left Xander no choice but to do as ordered. He urged Siegmund forward, and the destrier's gallop brought him further and further away from the two men who'd pledged to serve the Crown.

When he'd finally been able to return several days later, their bodies had already begun to decompose. Xander was left with no choice but to order them burned, and he made sure to personally return the ashes to their families, along with some of their more personal effects—Dedrick's beloved drinking horn and Hildehrand's ancestral pocket watch. King Garon had berated him for being soft, and it was one of the only times in living memory that Xander had stood up to the King, simply by standing by his own decision. He'd paid for it, of course, but he had done it.

And he would do no less for Laslow or Peri, if it ever came to that (Xander prayed that it wouldn't). Peri would be easy enough. All he had to do was track down the next Dormand in line to the dukedom and pass off Peri's ashes and her beloved lance. Laslow, of course, would be more challenging, but Xander was reasonably certain he could convince Odin or Selena to help him track down this Frederick fellow, and bring him his son's ashes and his late wife's missing costume chain.

Xander pulled that golden chain from his breast pocket, letting the cool metal pool in his hand. It was difficult to imagine a dancer's costume that would require such loud finery, but Xander supposed anything was possible, and also that his reaction was very Nohrian. As was his intention with it.

"That's pretty," a hoarse voice commented.

Xander's head snapped up, and he found himself face to face with Hinoka.

"It isn't mine," Xander heard himself say, "it's Laslow's. Kagero picked it up outside the Crescent Butchers' fort."

"Hmm." Hinoka folded her arms across her sternum. "Why do you still have it, then?"

"I haven't had the chance to give it back to him, yet." It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Don't you see him every day?"

Xander bit back on his molars as he tried to come up with an answer that didn't divulge either the plan or Laslow's secrets. But he needn't have thought too hard, because after a moment, Hinoka began to laugh.

"I'm prying," she said, "aren't I? Yukimura tells me all the time I need to stop doing that."

"Yukimura?" Xander asked, grateful for any chance to reroute the conversation. The foreign name rolled strangely off his tongue.

"He's our family advisor, a great strategist," Hinoka said, easily enough. "He served our father, and his father, all the way on back." She laughed, a little. "Queen Mikoto, too."

"I see," Xander said, a bit stiffly. "How fortunate for Hoshido."

After another long, awkward moment, Hinoka cocked an eyebrow. "Does your family not have someone similar?"

"No," Xander said tightly. "I _arrested_ one of my father's advisors two years ago, for..." He tried to recall Hans' exact crime, and found he could not. "Well, as Leo puts it, _shady shit._ And now Hans is out of prison and serving the royal family with a full pardon! Iago is a slimy worm who is a blight on and an embarrassment to the country, and Zola is the same, except spineless." Xander paused. "I suppose that makes Iago a snake, and Zola a worm, but…" He made a dismissive gesture. "…point remains."

Hinoka was staring at him a way Xander couldn't quite read, but she was grinning. "I touched a _nerve,"_ she said, laughter almost beneath the words. "I'm so sorry."

Xander sighed, and tried to roll some tension out of his shoulders. "It's alright," he said. "You didn't know, and it's not a secret. Camilla will tell you the same."

Hinoka stared at him for another moment, and Xander was beginning to wonder if there were something on his face. "Can you move?" she finally said. "You're in front of my Pegasus."

"Oh." Xander felt his face flush and immediately stepped sideways. "Apologies."

Hinoka hummed her thanks and then stepped forward to unlock the stall. The white Pegasus within whinnied in a way Xander could only describe as happily as Hinoka moved to greet it. She scratched behind its ears as if the creature were a dog. "Good morning, Akatsuki!" she said brightly, as if Xander weren't even there.

She picked up the brush from its hook on the wall and began brushing down her Pegasus, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Xander's first thought was that _doesn't she have servants or retainers for that?_ but his second was _well, you do the same thing for Siegmund._ His reckoning of the eldest Hoshidan princess immediately went up by several points.

"So," Hinoka said, drawing Xander's attention back to her, "are you hiding out in the stables because of that thing?" She tapped at her chest, where Laslow's mother's chain lay in Xander's pocket.

"No," Xander said, and it was only partially a lie. "Back home, one of my morning duties is to care for my horse, Siegmund. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I sort of miss it."

Hinoka nodded in understanding. "Kind of meditative, isn't it?" She paused. "Well, it's the closest I ever get to meditation, anyway."

Xander snorted. "Who has time for that?"

"Azama," Hinoka returned. At Xander's questioning gaze, she added, "He's the monk, who came in with the clumsy archer the other day. They're both my retainers."

"How does a monk come to be in the service of a princess?" _And of all things, why keep a clumsy_ archer _in your service when your brother is known to be the best in Hoshido?_

Hinoka paused in brushing her Pegasus. "By saving her from all the reckless shit she does." She smiled wryly. "I had trouble training Akatsuki when I was younger." She patted the Pegasus affectionately on the flank. "Pegasi like calm hearts, you know?"

"And yours wasn't?" Xander guessed.

"Not in the slightest!" Hinoka laughed. "But anyway, Azama found me after I fell onto a mountainside when I was… probably thirteen. Akatsuki was being particularly feisty that day, and I must've pulled too hard on the reins, because she bucked me off. I'm fully convinced I would have died if he hadn't tended to my wounds and sent me on my way. He refused then, but I hired him on a few years later."

After another moment, Hinoka said exactly what Xander had been thinking: "But I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Because it's relatively harmless information," Xander said after a moment, "and we're supposed to be…" He trailed off.

"Were you going to say friends?" Hinoka asked.

"I was," Xander admitted.

"Well, _I_ was going to say," she began, still brushing down her Pegasus, "that it's because you seem far more…" She paused, her face screwing up in concentration as she searched for a word. "… _human_ than I was expecting."

"Were you expecting a wyvern?" Xander tried to joke.

"I was expecting the enemy," Hinoka said quietly.

Xander sighed. "So was I."

She hung the brush back on the wall, and patted her Pegasus affectionately again. She then turned to Xander, and said, all in a rush, "Would you like to pet her? I hear they're really different from wyverns."

"They don't have scales," Xander pointed out.

Hinoka genuinely laughed as Xander set his coffee mug down on a railing and stepped softly into the stall beside her. There was hardly room for the three of them, but Hinoka didn't seem to mind standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a man she'd previously been at war with and had just called the enemy. Or if she did, it didn't show on her face or in the way she carried herself.

"Hello, Akatsuki," Xander said, feeling slightly absurd but emulating the Pegasus' owner just the same. He reached out with one hand, as he had been taught, and allowed the Pegasus to sniff the unfamiliar scent.

And then she snapped at him, and Xander jerked his hand back.

"Your heart's not calm," Hinoka said softly, "is it?"

"Never was."

 **-)**

 **Guest: Hold on to your scoreboard; it's gonna be a bumpy ride**

 **A Guest of Walks: I've never had a Malig Knight!Nina, but it could work. And the retainers will have their fun, don't you worry**


	24. Chapter 24

"You know," Selena remarked one morning as the newly-extended Key Dragons Mercenary Company hiked onward, "I expected a lot more… I don't know, _shit_ out of the Hoshidans. So far, they've practically just ignored us."

"Are you upset by this?" Laslow asked.

"Not exactly." Selena made a wishy-washy motion with her hand. "But how am I supposed to push their buttons if I don't know what they're _like?"_

Odin snorted. "That _would_ be what you're upset about."

"Well, look," Laslow said, gesturing to where Takumi and his retainers were walking ahead of them. "Up there. Do you see how Oboro watches and follows Takumi? That's a crush if I ever did see one."

"And over there," Odin added, gesturing to where Ryoma strode stiff-backed and tense, as if waiting for a fight, "do you not note how Lord Ryoma carries himself? I say, he is a mirror image of our Lord Xander."

"Not that," Selena said, waving the both of them off, "I know all that. I mean the things that will _really_ get reactions. Like staring at you, Laslow, or telling you your names are dumb, Odin."

Both men bristled, but it was Laslow who said, "Why do we hang out with you, again?"

"Oh, you can't get rid of me." Selena grinned, but it seemed almost predatory. "I'm practically your sister."

"Please do not be my sister," Odin mumbled. "I've had enough of those."

Selena cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't have a sister."

"No, but I had enough female cousins to make up for the lack!"

Laslow laughed, and when Odin and Selena glanced to him, he said, "I'm simply picturing tiny Lucina pulling on his hair or drawing all over his little boy's mage tomes."

Selena laughed—genuinely for once—and Odin grinned despite himself. "Lucina was never so frivolous," he said

The three Ylisseans grew somber as they each recalled why.

"Excuse me," said a lilting, Hoshidan voice.

All three turned to find the wily diviner, Orochi, catching up with their conversation circle. Laslow was the first to overcome his surprise, "Orochi, you're looking lovely today. How might we be of service?"

Her eyes narrowed, and Laslow had the distinct sense that this woman was playing cat-and-mouse. "I seem to have misplaced one of my tarot cards," she said. "It depicts a brook and a fish. Have any of you seen it?"

All three Ylisseans shook their heads. "Did you ask at the tavern before we left?" Selena asked, almost managing to keep all the sharp edges out of her voice.

"I did," Orochi said shortly. "I was simply wondering if anyone picked it up."

"We will keep an eye out for your mysterious, magical fortune cards," Odin promised.

Orochi cocked an eyebrow at him, and opened her mouth to say something. Laslow quickly cut in, "A brook and a fish, you say? Anything else you can tell us?"

Orochi sighed. "Just that the cards are special to me, and I would much appreciate it back." After another moment, she offered up, quietly, "Kagero painted my whole set."

"Kagero?" Laslow glanced to the ninja despite himself. As expected, she was keeping pace with Ryoma and Saizo, and the three were conversing in quick Hoshidan. "I had no idea she was an artist."

"Oh, yes." Orochi broke out into a genuine smile, and it changed Laslow's whole impression of the woman. "It's one of her favorite pastimes."

"I had no idea," Odin said, studying the ninja, as well.

Orochi made a noncommittal noise—"Well, if you'll excuse me."—and continued on her search.

"That reminds me," Selena said once she had gone, "Laslow, did you ever find your mother's chain?"

Laslow felt his chest practically cave in. "No."

"Chin up, friend." Odin patted Laslow prodigiously on the back, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it. "I'm certain it will make itself visible soon enough."

"I'm sure you've asked Xander and Peri," Selena began, "but what about Kagero?"

"Oh! No, I hadn't." Laslow glanced back to where the woman in question was now deep in an argument with Saizo. "She looks like she might appreciate being liberated at the moment, anyhow."

Odin laughed. "Go on, then."

"Just try to keep the flirting to a minimum," Selena snapped. "I've heard they're an item." She gestured to Kagero and Saizo.

Laslow made a face. "Duly noted."

He threaded his way around the various conversation circles until he reached the two ninja. The argument appeared to have heated up in the interim, for although Laslow could not understand Hoshidan, he recognized the tight postures and angry timbres easily enough.

"Excuse me, Kagero?" he cut in. "A word, if you would?"

She looked relieved, but it was Saizo who said, "For what?"

Laslow was shocked speechless for a moment. "What do you mean, 'for what?' You… aren't going to be a part of the conversation."

"For what purpose," Saizo said lowly, stepping closer to the grey-haired man, "do you seek out Prince Ryoma's retainer?"

"Saizo, that's enough," Kagero hissed.

Maintaining his smile was becoming a bit of a chore. "For a purpose that doesn't concern you?"

"If it concerns Kagero, it concerns me."

Something dark flashed in Kagero's eyes, and Laslow finally just outright asked, "Have I done something to offend, Saizo?"

"You're a _fop,"_ the red-haired ninja spat. "I cannot fathom how the likes of you became Prince Xander's retainer. Where did you come from, anyway? How did you find your way into the royal family?"

"That's… complicated," Laslow admitted.

Saizo's good eye narrowed. "And _that_ is not an answer."

"How about this, then?" Laslow couldn't say what, exactly, but something in him definitely snapped. He took careful, measured steps toward the man. "You have _no idea_ who I am, or what I've seen, or what I've done." A grin spread across Laslow's face, delicate and dangerous. "Because if you had, you might notice that I smile too much on purpose." He spread his hands and stepped away without breaking eye contact or turning his back.

Saizo bit back on his molars, and unbeknownst to the retainers, Ryoma was eyeing the encounter intently. "You are beneath my notice," Saizo snarled.

"Clearly not," Laslow said with an over exaggerated wink. "Kagero, seriously, a word?" He jerked his head backwards, a bit more insistently, this time.

Kagero hissed something in Hoshidan to Saizo, and then followed Laslow away from prying ears. Laslow could feel Saizo's glare digging into his back the whole way.

"I would apologize," Kagero said with a sigh, "but that would imply he wouldn't do that again."

"Is Saizo always that charming?" Laslow asked.

"Oh, it's usually worse," Kagero assured him. "But anyway, what did you need?"

"While we were at the Crescent Butchers' fort, I lost the gold chain I typically wear here." Laslow patted the hip in question. "You wouldn't happen to have seen it, would you?"

Kagero stared at him for a long moment, and Laslow could have sworn she was debating something. But it was just his imagination, because she eventually said, "No, I don't believe so. Why, is it important?"

Laslow sighed, and his shoulders drooped a little. "It belonged to my mother, is all."

Kagero's eyes widened. She knew what that tone meant, alright. Kaze and Saizo had it sometimes, when they spoke of their mother. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Oh, it was years ago." In an attempt to remain flippant, he added, "Or did you mean the chain?"

Kagero snorted. "Both, I suppose."

Laslow sighed again, and then Kagero watched as he visibly straightened his spine and stretched a smile across his face. "By the by, Orochi mentioned you were an artist. I had no idea."

Kagero let out a long-suffering sigh. "Orochi is a good friend, but she likes to talk up my napkin scribbles."

"Well, whatever you call them, I'd like to see them."

Kagero looked genuinely taken aback. "No, you wouldn't!" She laughed, but it sounded harsh, even to Laslow's ears. "Everyone finds my paintings so dismal and dreary. Even Orochi calls them 'apocalyptic.'"

Laslow studied her for a moment, and then, abruptly, asked, "Did you know my mother was a dancer?"

Kagero's brow furrowed. "No, I didn't." _Obviously,_ she couldn't help but think.

"Well, then you probably also didn't know that little Laslow used to mimic her steps. He was a clumsy little thing, always knocking into table legs and chairs. Used to annoy his father to no end."

Despite herself, Kagero couldn't help but laugh at the mental image. She almost asked where he was going with this, but the ninja knew the value of patience.

"When that little Laslow grew up, he went to war. And during his first tours of duty, he was dreadfully shy and could hardly use his talents for much of anything. But later, after he came to Nohr?" His grin grew a touch more genuine. "He found that he could dance in a way that brought his allies strength, the way his mother had."

Kagero studied him keenly, but she was still smiling. "And what am I to take from this?"

Laslow snorted. "A long-winded way of saying, from one artist to another, that the best art is meant to be shared."

Kagero continued to study him. "Alright," she finally said. "I have a sketchbook with me. Tonight, after dinner?"

Laslow beamed—"Capital! I'll be with Odin and Selena."—and departed before she could protest other people seeing her work, too.

Kagero turned a glance across the Key Dragons, such as they were. It had not escaped anyone's notice that by and large, like kept to like. It was hardly surprising, given that until a week ago, all of these people had been at war with one another, but Kagero couldn't help but feel that they were all missing something, somehow. As if there were some cosmic joke they hadn't yet all been let in on.

When she spotted the Crown Prince of Nohr, however, she felt her feet begin to move almost before the conscious thought. Although hers was not to question— _especially_ the other side's future king—for the kindness Laslow had shown her, she would at least attempt to return the favor.

"Prince Xander," she said upon approach. The man in question had been deep in conversation with his sisters, and turned at the sound of his name. "Could I have a word, please?"

"Certainly." He nodded to his sisters, who then departed, each with a quiet greeting on her way past Kagero. "Does Ryoma need something?

"No, milord," Kagero said carefully. "It's about Laslow."

"Was he flirting with you?" Xander sighed hugely. "I'll have a chat with him."

"Actually, no. At least, I don't think so." He _had_ witnessed Saizo, after all. "He asked if I'd seen that golden chain he lost."

Xander's back stiffened. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him no, I hadn't."

Xander's shoulders slackened in evident relief. "I see."

"With all due respect, Prince Xander," Kagero said, choosing her next words carefully, "please understand that I am not in the habit of lying, particularly for foreign royalty, nor do I intend to pick it up."

"Of course. So the question becomes, why would a ninja in the employ of the High Prince of Hoshido lie for the Crown Prince of Nohr?"

"Because he reminds me of Lord Ryoma in a great many ways," she said quietly, "and I've often found that, if I'm not privy to the details of his plan, it's often in my best interest not to interfere with it."

Xander studied her for a long moment. "You place that much faith in him?"

"And more," she assured him. "So, if you're as much like him as I think you are, I think I can spare you the benefit of the doubt."

Xander nodded. "I suppose I'm honored."

The corner of Kagero's mouth turned upward. "I will say, however, that I do believe Laslow would rather like it back."

The amusement drained from Xander's face. "I'm aware. Was that all you needed, Kagero?"

She nodded. "Yes, milord."

"Then kindly go."

-)

That night, after the camp had been set up and rations passed around, Kagero and Orochi made what would become known as the first major Hoshidan-Nohrian overture of friendship in almost two-hundred years.

The two women—Orochi with her tarot deck and Kagero with her sketchbook—got up from their spots near the Hoshidan firepit, and, both incredibly aware of the eyes upon them, made their way across the no man's land between the two countries' denizens.

"Lord Ryoma," Saizo hissed, "will you not stop her?"

Ryoma was watching his retainer intently, but all he said was, "She has done nothing wrong."

Laslow, Odin, and Selena greeted the two Hoshidans with cheerful smiles (well, Selena's was more like a not-actively-grim one) and rearranged themselves to make space near their fire. Several other people scooted away, and Kagero and Orochi tried not to mind.

"I can get you both some ale, if you like," Selena said, getting to her feet.

"You don't have to—" Orochi began, but Selena was already gone.

"Well, Kagero," Laslow said over the rim of his tankard, "let's see these mysterious paintings of yours, shall we?"

Kagero was still clutching her sketchbook to her chest. "You have to promise not to mock me."

Laslow put his hand to his heart. "On my honor."

To Laslow's right, Odin did the same. "By my fell hand and aching blood, it shall be so."

Orochi, who had not had the pleasure of learning Odin's speech patterns yet, merely stared at the man, but Kagero, who had, merely held out her sketchbook with both hands.

Laslow accepted the leather-bound book with uncharacteristic solemnity, and then began to flip through the pages carefully. The careful brushwork and delicate inking was diminished somewhat by the sheer _doom_ emanating off the pages. It was a simple landscape portrait, likely painted on the bank of a river somewhere, but even so, the picture seemed to be screaming in fear.

Laslow opened and shut his mouth a few times as he struggled to come up with something to say, and Odin studied the paintings with equally as careful an eye. Kagero studied both men as they flipped through the pages, anxiously playing with the end of her ponytail while Orochi hovered like a hawk.

After a few more page flips, Laslow finally found his voice, "Your technique is rather impressive, Kagero. The way you manage to impart, um, tragedy is really something."

Kagero's shoulders drooped. "You don't have to fear hurting my feelings, Laslow. I did warn you no one—"

"By all the darkness there is," Odin suddenly piped up, "By all the grimness ever conceived…" He appeared to be at his equivalent of a loss for words. "By every speck of doom that has ever lodged in the white of Odin's eye—I declare this a work of genius!"

Kagero's jaw actually dropped, but it was Orochi who said, "She said not to mock her!"

"That's the thing," Laslow said, "he isn't."

"This one!" Odin exclaimed, taking the sketchbook from Laslow and pointing to a particular painting. "This is brilliant! What do you call it?"

"It's, um, a just something I imagined," Kagero said, "half dragon, half caterpillar. I'm thinking of calling it a silkwyrm."

Odin's facial expression as equal parts deathly serious and incredibly excited. Laslow hadn't seen that combination in years. "This monster sprang from the depths of your imagination?"

"Er, yes?"

"Selena!" Odin said as the woman appeared, carrying two new tin mugs of ale. "Look at this!" He thrust the painting toward her, and Selena recoiled instinctively. "Isn't it cool?"

"It's… something, alright," Selena agreed, passing the two mugs to a bemused Orochi and a dumbstruck Kagero. "Really striking technique, though."

"That's what I said!" Laslow exclaimed.

"Ugh, you people never recognize genius," Odin huffed, getting to his feet.

Laslow snickered. "We love you too, friend."

Odin rolled his eyes as he glanced about the Nohrians' camp. "Ordinarily, I would show such art immediately to Lord Leo, but as it stands…" He zeroed in on a head of white hair. "Niles! I've found something that demands your attention!"

The outlaw glanced up from where he was playing cards with an increasingly baffled Corrin, and immediately, his brow furrowed. "What in the hell is that?"

"A silkwyrm!" Odin exclaimed. "Kagero painted it!"

"How dreadful," Niles muttered, turning back to his game.

"It's really interesting, Kagero!" Corrin called over her shoulder to the ninja.

Odin looked personally offended—"Oh, that is _it!"_ —and took off running.

Kagero was up and moving just a half-second too slow to catch him. "Odin!" she shouted after him. "Bring that back!"

Odin appeared not to have heard her, as his pace didn't slow. He bolted right across the no man's land what would become known as the first instance of Ylissean-Hoshidan friendship in… well, nobody was ever quite sure.

He tried to brush past Saizo, but the ninja wouldn't allow it. "What the hell are you doing?" Saizo demanded.

"Look at this!" Odin said gleefully. "Kagero painted it! Isn't it cool?"

"She wastes her time with such nonsense," Saizo said. "A royal retainer should focus on her liege."

Odin blinked a few times. "You're allowed to have a life, are you not?"

Saizo recoiled at the question, and by the time he'd come up with an answer, Odin was already moving again.

"Lord Ryoma!" Odin called, rounding on where the prince in question was sitting with his siblings beside the bonfire. "Did you know Kagero is a painter?"

Ryoma quirked an eyebrow. "I did. She has quite the aesthetic."

"I know!" Odin grinned, proudly thrusting the painting towards the three Hoshidan siblings. "Is this not most marvelous?"

"It's good to see you're branching out from landscapes, Kagero!" Hinoka called over to the ninja as she pelted across the no man's land.

"Even if she still doesn't know there's a color palate," Takumi muttered as he deftly scooped up more rice with his chopsticks.

"Odin, _please_ give it back," Kagero said. "I told you, no one likes them!"

Odin looked to Kagero, and then over to her liege, who made an apologetic face, and then Hinoka, who suddenly found a tear in her skirt incredibly interesting, and then Takumi, who shrugged, and then back to Kagero.

"Well, _I_ do."

He said it with such intensity that Kagero wasn't the only one taken aback. She could only stare at the blond mage, but eventually, Ryoma came to her rescue. "Well, Kagero," he said with genuine fondness, "it seems you've found yourself a fan."

Odin looked to Kagero. "Can I have this?"

That, more than anything else this evening, really had Kagero at a loss. "Um?" was all she could think to say.

"I want to get it framed," Odin continued, "and place it upon the mantle of the house I may one day own, so that all who enter my domain will see it. And when they ask where I came upon such a unique and auspicious piece of art, I'll tell them a ninja painted it!"

A grin broke out across Kagero's normally stern face. "Sure." She nodded, at first hesitantly, and then with more fervor. "Sure, why not? It'll only gather dust in my sketchbook anyway."

"Thank you!" Odin shouted, making Hinoka jump and Takumi wince. Ryoma alone remained unfazed. "I'm so excited!"

"Odin," said a flat, familiar voice, "Lady Camilla wishes to know what all the commotion is?"

Odin turned to Beruka and held out the sketchbook once more. "Kagero painted this dreadfully cool monster. She said I could have it!"

Beruka cocked her head to study the painting for a moment, and then glanced to Kagero. "Can… I see any of the others?" she asked. "I think I might be feeling something."

Hinoka looked taken aback, while Kagero laughed in the awkward, I-have-no-idea-if-you're-joking sort of way. Ryoma studied the blue-haired woman as if to determine her aim. Only Takumi's laughter was genuine.

Odin leaned over to the youngest prince to hiss in a theatrical whisper, "She has a condition."

Takumi's eyes widened, and he immediately ducked his head and began shoveling rice into his mouth again.

"Sure," Kagero said, "Beruka, was it?" At the assassin's nod, Kagero smiled a little more. "I was over at your campfire, anyway."

The three of them took their leave of the royal siblings, Odin chattering excitedly, Beruka listening with quiet intensity, and Kagero holding her precious sketchbook again, albeit with less of a death grip.

"Well, I'll be damned," Hinoka said once her brother's retainer was safely out of earshot. "That's two fans she's found today."

"Those Nohrians are crazy," Takumi muttered between mouthfuls of rice.

-)

 **A Guest of Walks: The children aren't really going to show up much in this fic, if at all, but I'll keep it in mind.**


	25. Chapter 25

_Tonight,_ Xander decided. _I will give Laslow back his mother's chain tonight._

He'd certainly held onto it long enough. Not exactly intentionally, of course, but sometimes such things couldn't be helped. There were plans to go over with Ryoma, and training with Peri and Laslow to keep up, and Corrin's recovery to oversee (despite the fact that she largely didn't want him involved, what with how much he fussed over her).

There was also the fact that the plan left a bad taste in Xander's mouth, but he tried not to dwell on that.

He held onto his resolve all through setting up camp and dinner. He lost himself in Camilla's tales of woe and Corrin's laughter, but all the while, it sat crouched in the back of his mind, like a dragon. After they cleared their plates and repacked the provisions, Xander got to his feet, stretching his cramped limbs, and, drawing in a deep breath, set off for the retainers' table, such as it was.

"…And then, Odin Dark swooped down upon them!" Odin was saying as Xander approached. "The foul creatures stood no chance against his legendary magic!"

"There were three bandits, and you caught them with their pants down," Niles interrupted.

" _Despite_ his annoying unhelpful partner," Odin said with a look thrown Niles' way, "Odin Dark could deliver justice in such a way that would make even the unluckiest man in the army proud!"

"I miss Arthur," Peri said. "He's funny."

"He's something," Selena agreed with an imperious toss of one of her pigtails.

Laslow laughed. "Is that your new favorite way to disagree with someone?"

Selena shrugged. "I've been told it's less rude."

"Lord Xander," Beruka said, snapping everyone's attention to the Crown Prince, "what can we do for you?"

Xander felt uncomfortable under the weight of so many eyes. "I just need to speak with Laslow."

"Oh." Laslow glanced over to Peri, who met his gaze for only a moment and then looked to her boots. "Um, milord, will it take long?"

Xander's brow furrowed. "Possibly. Why do you ask?"

Laslow kept looking back over at his fellow retainer. "Peri? Do you want to tell him?"

She looked up, and met Xander's gaze head on. "I had wanted to talk to you privately, Lord Xander."

"Oh." Now it was Xander's turn to be taken aback.

"So of course, milord," Laslow said, getting to his feet. "I'm happy to be of service. I just…" He trailed off, trying to find the words he needed.

Xander took pity on him. "It will be no more important tomorrow than it is today." Laslow plopped back onto the log with evident relief. "Peri," Xander continued, "if you would?"

"Right!" She sprang to her feet and threaded her way out of the knot of people to Xander's side.

Privacy was sort of a bygone concept, out in the wilderness, but it wasn't a complete loss. Xander led Peri to the copse of trees just beyond the warmth of the fireside circles. It would keep whatever she had to say (largely) away from prying ears.

"Well, Peri," Xander said, turning to face her, "what did you need?"

Peri was scuffing the toe of her boot in the dirt. _Not a good sign,_ Xander couldn't help but think. He tried not to be too annoyed (and relieved) with her for interrupting his plan, and thus for keeping Laslow separated from his mother's chain for longer than necessary, but it was rare that Peri ever sought him out individually. Something wasn't right.

"Peri?" Xander tried again, a bit more insistently.

She looked up, and Xander noticed that her mascara had begun to streak. If this were one of his sisters, he would have thought nothing of pulling her into a hug, or making some quip about her ruined makeup, but with a retainer (specifically, this one), Xander was never quite sure how much affection was too much. So instead, he set about looking for a handkerchief. He cursed himself when he realized it was in the same pocket as the chain.

"Lord Xander," Peri finally said, her voice shaking, "how do you know if you love someone?"

Xander was so struck by the question, he fumbled with the handkerchief in his hands. Mercifully, Peri didn't notice any glint of gold—or didn't seem to, anyway. "Well," he began, holding the small cloth out to her, "that's a bit of a complicated question."

"I know." Peri blew her nose, and the sound started a few night birds in a nearby tree into flight. "But I didn't know who else to ask."

"Camilla could probably answer better than I could," Xander said, not unkindly.

Peri's eyes widened. "She _scares_ me."

Xander tried not to dwell on the fact that his bloodthirsty retainer was afraid of his overly-doting younger sister. "Well, then, let me think." He tried not to let his thoughts wander to Corrin, but there was little he could do to stop it, especially on this topic. "Love is… wanting what's best for another. It's wanting their safety and happiness, their betterment and growth. It's as much a choice as it is a feeling, even if we can't help whom we fall in love with, and it isn't something you can force." His face grew somber as he added, "And it's wanting all of those things for a person, even—and perhaps especially—if you can't provide them."

"What do you do if you love someone you shouldn't?"

Xander drew in a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in his chest. "All you can do is take a large step back, and try to support them as best you can from a distance that doesn't make it worse on either of you." He tried to smile, but it couldn't quite stretch properly. "But I truly don't think you have that problem, Peri."

She looked taken aback. "How do you know?"

Well, if he couldn't give Laslow his chain back, he could at least keep his retainers from dancing around each other's feelings for eternity. "It's Laslow, isn't it?"

Peri squeaked in surprise, and suddenly had her hands were fisted in Xander's Master-of-Arms robe, over his chest. He recoiled in surprise, but it was almost lost as she said, "Please, please, _please,_ Lord Xander, _you can't tell him!"_

"Peri, unhand me," Xander said calmly.

And she did, looking with horror upon her hands and murmuring her apologies.

Xander smoothed down the front of his robe again, checking surreptitiously for Laslow's mother's chain (and noting with relief that it was still there). "I won't say a word to him," Xander promised, "but I rather think you should, Peri."

She folded her arms across her torso, as if she could disappear by hugging herself. "I shouldn't love him, Lord Xander," she whispered.

He knew the feeling, alright. In their case, however, it made no sense. "Why ever not?"

Peri was crying in earnest, now, not the crocodile tears Xander had learned to deal with easily enough. She was shaking under the weight of her words. "I don't want to hurt him again, Lord Xander. I _can't."_

And just like that, he understood. "This is about that night in the forest, isn't it?"

Peri nodded furiously. "And the Crescent Butchers."

"You were protecting Laslow and me from the Butchers," Xander reminded her, "and, I suppose, to a less intuitive degree, Corrin. Those men would have killed us, if you hadn't protected us."

"But it _felt_ good," Peri whispered, her voice high-pitched and pain-filled. "It's not supposed to feel good."

"No," Xander conceded, "it's not. But it didn't feel good when you were hurting Laslow, did it?"

Peri's eyes widened, and the black rings of runny mascara made the mismatched red-and-green stand out all the more strongly. For a moment, Xander swore he could almost see in her what Laslow saw. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

" _No!"_ Peri whispered fiercely.

"And it didn't feel good when you just tried to hurt me, did it?"

Peri shook her head ferociously. "No!"

"Then you've already begun to learn the difference." Xander reached out, and when Peri didn't flinch, squeezed her shoulder. "You can fight this, Peri, and become better than you are now. I know it." His smile grew a touch more genuine. "Laslow knows it, too."

Peri squeaked in surprise again, and then threw her arms around Xander and squeezed. He felt his spine crack in three places. "I'm so scared, Lord Xander." Her voice was slightly muffled by his robes as she burrowed into them. _Hiding, again,_ Xander mentally filled in.

Xander released a long-suffering sigh, and returned the hug—albeit less forcefully. "I can only imagine." It wasn't exactly a lie, nor was it exactly the truth.

"Corrin is so lucky to have a big brother like you," Peri said.

 _Ah, but Peri,_ Xander wanted to say, _that's exactly the problem._

-)

"You have mascara on your shirt," Camilla informed him blithely when Xander returned.

"I know." He wanted to take up the seat beside Corrin, but knew it was wiser to take an empty one elsewhere, so he sat beside Camilla. "It's Peri's. She had another episode."

Camilla's violet eyes widened in their sockets, and Corrin's head snapped up from where she had apparently been contemplating her drink.

It took Xander a moment to realize why. "A crying one, not a violent one!"

"Oh, thank the Dusk Dragon," Corrin said, with genuine relief.

"That's the _last_ thing we need around the Hoshidans," Camilla added firmly. "I can only imagine the rumors if Peri were to fly off the handle again."

"They wouldn't be rumors, Camilla," Corrin pointed out. "They'd just be true."

"She's talking about the reflection on me, Corrin," Xander said.

And Camilla nodded. "Precisely. Now, Xander, do you want me to get that out?"

"Please, sister."

In the ensuing awkward shuffle to get Xander out of the white, over-robe of the Hoshidan armor, both he and Camilla missed the pained look cross Corrin's face. By the time her elder siblings had righted themselves, Corrin's face was as impassive as before, even if there was a touch of sadness in her eyes.

"I'll be right back," Camilla promised, getting to her feet and heading over to her and Corrin's tent.

Leaving Xander very aware of the fact that he was less-than-fully clothed and alone with Corrin for the first time in gods-knew-how-long, not counting the Crescent Butchers incident.

Corrin broke the silence first. "Is Peri alright?"

Xander sighed. "She will be. She's just a bit…" He looked for a word. "…unsettled, at the moment."

"About Laslow?" Corrin asked, picking at an invisible speck of dirt on her _tatami_ armor.

Xander wanted to say _look at me, dammit,_ but instead, he said, "Yes, it was. But shush. Apparently, it's a secret."

Corrin laughed, but it was edged in something forced. "It's _not_ a secret. But what did you tell her?"

Xander huffed a laugh at the irony, and glanced to the stars. "The same thing I told Leo, really. It isn't about you, and although we can't help whom we love sometimes, it's as much a choice as it is a feeling."

Camilla returned at that point, having spread a white, powder-like substance across the stains in Xander's armor. She sat back down beside her brother, laying the white robe across her knees as she did so, and then glanced to her siblings. To the casual observer, she made no other move, but Xander and Corrin were _not_ casual observers. They noticed the look of consternation cross her features.

"I'm going to bed," Corrin announced, getting to her feet. "Good night, Big Brother, Big Sister."

"Good night, darling," Camilla said easily.

"Good night," Xander added.

Camilla waited until Corrin was safely out of earshot (and then some), before whirling on Xander. "What did you say to her?" she demanded.

Xander's brow furrowed in annoyance. "Nothing out of the ordinary. She asked if Peri was alright, and I said she would be, and Corrin figured out that she'd come to me about Laslow."

"I see." Camilla's facial expression softened. "Then it really wasn't anything, was it?"

Xander snorted. "Do you really think so little of me that it would have been something?"

"Of course not," Camilla said at once.

They sat in rigid silence, Xander's armor sitting across Camilla's knees and the firelight betraying nothing.

"I hate this," Camilla finally said.

"She says, as if I don't."

"You're both hurting," Camilla continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "and I can't do a damn thing about it. I feel so _useless."_ Her hands fisted in Xander's armor. "And when I don't, I feel torn apart. I want nothing more than your happiness, and hers, but they can't exist beside one another, and where does that leave us all?"

"Here," Xander said, and Camilla viscerally recoiled. It was unlike her brother to sound so very bitter. "And maybe if she's lucky, she can live with the Hoshidans after the war. I'm sure they'd love to have her back."

"Don't say things like that!" Camilla snapped, backhanding Xander's arm.

"I don't know what else to _do_ , Camilla," Xander shot back. "I have tried everything I can possibly think of to bury my feelings, but it doesn't matter. I _can't."_

"You haven't tried seeing someone else," Camilla pointed out.

Xander threw up his hands in exasperation. " _Again,_ like whom? Charlotte? Nyx? Felicia? I've told you before, it isn't that I dismiss the idea, it's that there isn't a replacement."

"Well, there's your first damn problem," Camilla couldn't help but snap, "you consider anyone else a _replacement!"_

"And what's my second," Xander snarled, "the fact that I'm still the insufferable Crown Prince?"

" _Your second is that you're a stubborn ass!"_ Camilla shouted.

Camilla and Xander eyed each other in a fury that would only be broken when an unnaturally timid voice cut in, "Ehh, Camilla? Xander?"

The both turned sharply at the sound, and to say that Ryoma was uncomfortable with having the both of them glaring at him would be an understatement.

"What do you need, Ryoma?" Xander bit off.

The High Prince of Hoshido held up a small stack of papers. "Oh," Camilla said after a moment "that's right. We were supposed to go over the maps before we crossed over into the next province."

Xander pressed his thumb and ring finger into his temples, and Ryoma could sympathize with the headache undoubted blooming between the other man's eyes. "Where are Hinoka and Takumi?" Xander asked.

Ryoma would never get used to how oddly Hoshidan names rolled from Nohrian tongues, but at least the royal family _tried_ to pronounce them correctly. It was more than he had expected.

"Just finishing up dishes," Ryoma lied smoothly. He was not about to tell them that his younger siblings had been intimidated by whatever argument the two Nohrians had been having. It had sounded… tense. "Where is Corrin?"

"She's already retired for the evening," Camilla said airily.

Ryoma cocked an eyebrow. "Should we wake her?"

"No," Xander said in a tone that booked no room for argument.

 **-)**

 **A Guest of Walks: I have Kagero!Ophelia, and I'm enjoying it so far. Camilla by far passed down the best stats, though.**

 **Anonymous: Glad you're enjoying it (and also Odin's antics)!**

 **Nimaka: They know how it feels to be left on the outside**


	26. Chapter 26

"Based on Kagero and Saizo's scouting reports, as well as the mathematical calculations of the map," Ryoma was saying the next morning as the Key Dragons headed onward, "we should reach Ranwara in a matter of days."

"And from there we'll head up the mountain, yes?" Xander pressed.

Ryoma nodded solemnly. "And hopefully take care of this invisible menace for once and for all."

Xander snorted in a very un-regal fashion; Ryoma did a double take. "You know, if I hadn't seen them myself," the Nohrian said, "I would have called that statement mad."

Ryoma smiled, just a little "To be fair, we've also been calling them something else, at Castle Shirasagi." At Xander's raised eyebrow, Ryoma added, with a sort of sheepish grin, " _Uzai."_

Xander's other eyebrow shot upward. "I don't think my childhood lessons in basic Hoshidan covered that one."

Ryoma was doing his damnedest to keep a straight face. "They wouldn't."

There was a pause.

"So what does it mean?" Xander prodded.

Ryoma put a mock offended hand to his chest. "I will not be the reason the Crown Prince learns to swear in Hoshidan!"

"Oh, for the love of the Dusk Dragon…!"

Ryoma started laughing, and it broke his stern façade in such a way that made Xander wonder if others were just as surprised when he himself did anything besides scowl. "'A pain in the ass,'" Ryoma translated.

Xander broke into genuine laughter himself. "I wish we could be that honest in my father's court."

For some reason, Ryoma felt compelled to add, "It's Hinoka's second-favorite word, so it just sort of stuck."

"Second-favorite? What's the first, then?"

Ryoma sighed. _Well, you've come this far._ " _Kuso._ It basically means 'shit.'"

Had Xander been drinking anything, he would have spat it out in surprise. "I'm falling behind," he said in mild dismay. "My favorite word is 'defenestration!'"

"Eh, come again?"

Xander huffed. "It's the act of throwing someone out a window."

Ryoma burst into startled laughter, to the point that Kagero and Saizo appeared to ensure that all was well with their liege. Ryoma waved off the both of them, but his loyal ninja refused to be deterred.

"Milord?" Saizo asked.

"The Nohrians…" Ryoma managed between spurts of laughter. "…have a word for…. throwing somebody out of a window!"

Saizo's face remained impassive (no doubt, largely thanks to his mask), but Kagero had to stifle a smile. "Well," she said, "what is it?"

"Defenestration," Xander said again.

Kagero produced a small sketchbook from somewhere within the confines of her _shozoku_ and put pencil to paper for about a half-second before she paused. "Could you write that on the page somewhere, Lord Xander? My Nohrian spelling is atrocious."

Xander shook his head slightly as he held out his hands for Kagero's effects. He paused in walking for a moment to write the word in question across the top of the page in his neat, cursive scrawl, and then handed everything back to the ninja.

"Thank you, I… oh." Kagero paused, staring at the word for a moment. "You have _really_ nice handwriting, Lord Xander."

"Thank you," Xander said, impressively straight-faced as the unflappable Saizo snorted, "I do a lot of paperwork."

"Do you not have a scribe?" Ryoma asked, curious about the inner workings of the Nohrian court.

"I dismissed her a few years ago when I caught her reading my letters," Xander said. "So, sometimes Camilla or Leo will help, but mostly I do everything myself."

"Sounds like you need a wife," Saizo observed. Kagero pinched him just beneath the ribs, and his face twisted in pain.

"Camilla says the same thing." Xander pressed his fingers into his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. "But I think she's just tired of answering my correspondences."

"If she's anything like Hinoka," Ryoma said as his retainers disappeared again, "I'm sure she is."

Xander glanced out across the Key Dragons. "I'm not sure our sisters are anything alike."

Both men glanced to where Camilla was deep in conversation with Corrin and Beruka (although as usual, the assassin was simply lurking and listening), and then over to where Hinoka was in the middle of helping Azama pull Setsuna out of a rabbit hole she'd managed to get herself stuck in.

"Perhaps not," Ryoma conceded.

A silence fell across the two princes, and for the first time since their uncomfortable truce, it was not, in fact, uncomfortable. Not necessarily pleasant yet, but not nearly so tense as these sorts of things used to be. Neither was quite sure what to make of it.

Maybe that was why Xander could talk about what had been on his mind for a few days, now. "Ryoma, would you say that Corrin's…" He struggled to find a word, given that the usual was _abduction._ "…sojourn in Hoshido early last year was beneficial to her?"

The samurai seemed surprised at the question. "Yes," he said after a moment, "I believe so. My step-mother missed her daughter terribly, and so did my siblings and I. Ever since her…" Ryoma struggled to find the word he needed, given that the usual was _hostage situation._ "…sojourn in Nohr, Castle Shirasagi hasn't felt quite right. We each grieved in our own ways, and when we came back together, things were…" A hundred Hoshidan words came to mind, but in Nohrian, Ryoma simply had to settle for, "…well, just different."

"Call it by its name, Ryoma," Xander said. "A kidnapping is a kidnapping, even if the King of Nohr is the one doing it."

A pregnant pause fell across the two men.

"I suppose I should thank you, Xander," Ryoma finally said. "Corrin spoke endlessly of you, Camilla, Leo, and Elise, and the care and devotion each of you showed during her formative years." Xander froze, but Ryoma wasn't finished. "In particular, I think she looked up to you."

Xander's throat closed up. "I can only strive to be worthy of her." He coughed, and then continued, "Anyway, I didn't bring this up to exercise our linguistic skills, Ryoma. I did have a purpose." He drew in a deep breath. "I think that, perhaps after the war, Corrin would benefit from spending some time with you and yours."

It was only his training as High Prince of Hoshido that kept Ryoma's jaw from physically dropping at the news. "I think that sounds like a generous idea."

Xander smiled, but there was sadness in it. "I figure we can work it out like a divorced couple—we each get Corrin every other month and every third holiday, or something."

Ryoma laughed. "That sounds far more dignified than one side or the other re-kidnapping her every so often." Xander snorted, but Ryoma wasn't finished, "But will King Garon allow for it?"

Something cold and hard as flint fell across Xander's face. "One way or another, Ryoma, I don't believe my father will outlast this war."

And there it was, the wyvern in the room. The war between their countries. Omnipresent, if not necessarily pressing, and ever-coloring everyone's perceptions of the other side.

"I'm sorry," Ryoma said, not really knowing why.

A rueful smile tugged at Xander's handsome features. "Being royalty isn't all fancy dinner parties and endless correspondence. Sometimes, it's just shit."

Ryoma sighed. "Agreed."

"Xander, darling!" Camilla's rich alto cut across the building silence. "Could you come over here?"

Xander sighed the long-suffering sigh of an elder brother. Ryoma knew it well." And just like that," the Nohrian said, already on the move, "duty calls."

"I hear wives are worse," Ryoma said.

Xander made a wordless noise of a defeat as he departed.

Ryoma studied the Nohrian for a moment as he approached his sisters, arms spread and face, somehow, less stern. Camilla launched into something Ryoma was too far away to hear, and even if he hadn't been, probably couldn't have followed much of, anyway. The Nohrian royal family spoke quickly and in half-formed sentences when around each other, no doubt a by-product of their famed closeness.

"What did the Nohrian want?" Takumi asked sharply, and in lieu of greeting.

" _Xander_ ," Ryoma said, putting subtle pressure on the name, "wanted to go over the maps, and the plan for encountering the _Uzai."_

Takumi's brown eyes narrowed. "And that's _funny,_ is it?"

Ryoma shrugged. "He's actually very witty. Also, did you know that Nohrian has a word for throwing someone out of a window?"

"Doesn't that imply that they need a word for throwing someone out of a window?"

Ryoma shook his head. "That's not how Nohrian works. They have useless words for a lot of things."

"Humph," said Takumi. "And you know that because…?"

Ryoma grinned—"Because I paid attention in my lessons."—and rustled Takumi's newly-shortened hair, just to annoy him.

"Don't do that!" the grey-haired prince snapped, swatting Ryoma's hand away. "I finally got it to sit right!"

This was ordinarily the point where Hinoka told Takumi to calm down or relax or both, but Ryoma was not Hinoka. "Have you been managing to get in some practice, on the road?" he asked instead.

"Here and there," Takumi said, his edges softening just a little. "Fujin Yumi's sort of noticeable, though, so I have to borrow Setsuna's bow when we're in towns."

"That's kind of her to loan it to you," Ryoma said.

"I don't think she notices anymore," Takumi said. "I asked her the first few times, though."

At that moment, a shrill shout broke across the Key Dragons: "Please, you have to help us! Who is in charge here?"

Xander's resonant voice boomed across the assembled "mercenary band," such as it was: "I am."

"Are you just gonna let him do that?" Takumi hissed to his older brother.

"Hush, Takumi," Ryoma commanded, physically putting a hand to his younger brother's chest. "Watch."

"What's going on?" Xander asked the man.

"Our village is being attacked by the Nohrians! Please, I know this has to be a mercenary band. We _need_ help."

"Nohrians?" Xander was taken aback. "Has the war moved this far inward?"

The villager nodded vigorously. "They're being led by a bald man with a scowl and an awful beard."

" _Hans,"_ Camilla hissed, her hands tightening into fists at her sides.

Xander had been torn before about attacking his own forces, but that settled it. "Key Dragons!" he bellowed. "Form up!"

The Nohrians knew immediately what to do, falling into pairs and rolling their shoulders in preparation for the coming battle. The Hoshidans took their cue from them, although battle pairs were less formal things in the Hoshidan army and involved a lot more chatter.

"We can work out an exact price later," Xander said to the villager. "But know that we expect honest pay for honest work."

"Of course," said the villager in breathless relief.

"Then lead the way," Xander said to him, before calling out, "Key Dragons! Move out!" He made the "forward march" gesture that Nohrian commanders used when the clash of steel was too great for shouted orders.

The villager might not have noticed, but Takumi sure did. He bristled at the Nohrian command, grinding his teeth even as he fell into step beside Ryoma.

 **-)**

 **As a belated birthday present to my Corrin (and also myself), I give to you lot a chapter! (Never mind that that's technically backwards.)**

 **This one was actually really fun to write. And I'm glad so many of y'all are enjoying my work!**


	27. Chapter 27

The world was on fire.

At least, that's what it felt like. Xander had never seen a village so thoroughly decimated mid-attack. _Definitely Hans' handiwork._ His fist tightened around Siegfried's hilt, and had he been looking, he would have seen Corrin and Camilla's hands do the same around the Yato and a steel axe, respectively.

And flitting in between the smoke were the unmistakable shoulder pauldrons and forged steel of the Nohrian army. Xander's stomach clenched painfully. There was no call for this level of destruction on a _village,_ of all places. It held no strategic value, and thus, had no military presence to speak of.

"They're everywhere!" their village guide was saying. The horror in his voice would echo across Xander's mind for months. "And they cast this damn magic smoke so nobody can _see_ anything!"

"Stay and fight," Xander said to him, "or run and hide, but either way—this ends now."

He drew Siegfried in all its terrible glory, and the purple edges glinted ominously through the smoke. Behind him, Takumi had threaded the Fujin Yumi, the bluish-white arrow luminous in the darkness. Beside him, the Raijinto crackled with lightning in Ryoma's hand, as beautiful and deadly as Siegfried, but different, somehow.

The villager's horror only grew. "Who… are you people?"

Xander spared him only a glance—"The Key Dragons."—before pelting forward with all the force of a destrier.

Laslow and Peri were right behind him, weapons out and at the ready, following Siegfried's purple light into the midday gloom. Corrin and Camilla took their cue from their older brother, breaking away in opposite directions, trailing retainers. Ryoma charged forward in Xander's wake, Saizo and Kagero not far behind (although one couldn't necessarily tell through the smoke), and Takumi immediately began scaling the nearest building, looking for a decent sniper's nest. Hinoka took pity on him and yanked her younger brother off the wall and onto the back of her beloved Pegasus.

The first clash of steel-on-steel was eerie. Although it was a sound all the Key Dragons had heard a hundred times over, the familiarity was somehow ghastly in the midday gloom of the smoke-covered city.

From astride Akatsuki, Hinoka winced. "Who do you think that was?" she couldn't help but ask Takumi.

"Don't care." Takumi coughed. "Probably a Nohrian."

Hinoka rolled her eyes and spurred Akatsuki lower. "Can't see a damn thing in this smoke."

Takumi nodded. "We need to clear it."

"Any ideas?" Hinoka asked.

Takumi fell silent as his sister steered. He pulled Fujin Yumi taut, focusing all of his concentration on the mystical bowstring of the legendary weapon, and squinted through the murky smoke. Here and there, he could make out bits and pieces of various clashes—Raijinto's familiar lighting and Siegfried's unearthly purple light, the ethereal forms of the Ox and Snake from Orochi's scrolls, hoarse laughter from the Nohrian Prince's batshit crazy retainer, tiny, controlled explosions from Saizo's arsenal—but he couldn't hope to make a clean shot at anything in particular. And he would _not_ skewer an ally, even if they were Nohrian.

Even if his head ached like a bitch.

"Could Orochi clear this?" Takumi asked, voice pained.

"Not by herself, but…" Hinoka paused to maneuver around a bolt of lightning that most certainly belonged to a Nohrian mage.

Which reminded Takumi, although he was loathe to admit it: "The Nohrians have a mage."

"His name is Odin," Hinoka said sharply, and in bursts between jerking Akatsuki one way or the other.

Takumi harrumphed at her, then scanned the battlefield once more. Pride surged in his chest when he spotted his beloved retainers holding their ground. Hinata's katana was little more than a silver flash in the murk, and Oboro's flashy spearwork was actually clearing the smoke around them. It was not unlike Corrin's Yato, which sliced and arced through the smoke in such a way that called out to something lodged deeply and darkly within him—the place where Ryoma said their dragon blood came from.

Takumi viscerally recoiled at the thought.

It was impossible to tell which lightning was coming from the Nohrian mage— _Odin,_ his stupid brain filled in—save for the fact that it wasn't directed at Hinoka and him. Takumi spotted Orochi's ethereal Ox easily enough, though. It was the only one of its kind.

"Set me down!" Takumi barked.

Hinoka huffed in such a way that Takumi had heard a million times before, but still veered sharply downwards. Takumi didn't wait for her to finish the descent; he leapt from Akatsuki's back, landing hard on the balls of his feet and firing Fujin Yumi.

The arrow struck true, right between a Nohrian soldier's eyes. Orochi nodded her thanks as she readied her scrolls for another spell, but Takumi shook his head and gestured to Hinoka. At once, their mother's retainer understood, and Orochi took off in a dead sprint, leaping onto Akatsuki's back and colliding with Hinoka. Takumi winced in sympathy.

Hinoka took off again, and only then did it occur to Takumi that he was an archer, alone, in the middle of a melee.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he mentally berated himself as he strung the Fujin Yumi again. He fired a volley of arrows in rapid succession, never missing a target, but _still,_ the Nohrians kept coming. There were lancers and axe-men and Dawn Dragon knew what else, just waiting for him to miss.

Just as Takumi was beginning to think that only one prince of Hoshido was going to walk out of this deathtrap (and, perhaps, that the world might be better off), he heard it: twin footsteps from either side of him, picking up speed as their owners shot forth. An unfamiliarly accented voice taunted the enemy to smile for him, and a hoarse voice not unlike his older sister's giggled with maniac glee.

Prince Xander's retainers made short work of the onslaught, and Takumi couldn't help but grudgingly admire their form. The blue-haired woman's spearfighting was immaculate, clearly the result of years of drilling and hard work. She was a natural with a spear, even if she _did_ seem a tad deranged. The grey-haired man's footwork was light and lithe as a dancer's, and the grin that never left his face somehow seemed more like armor than a sign of mental illness.

Never mind what Saizo said; these two certainly deserved to serve the High Prince of Nohr.

When the coast was clear for the moment, the grey-haired man turned to Takumi. "You alright?" he asked brusquely.

"Fine," said Takumi sharply. Begrudgingly, he added, "Thank you."

The woman cocked her head like a curious child. "Why did you jump off your sister's Pegasus?"

Takumi's focus fell sharply center. "I was looking for your mage. My sister has a plan to get rid of this smoke, but Orochi needs help."

"Capital idea." The grey-haired man was immediately on the move. "Stick with us; we'll find Odin for you."

Takumi's brow furrowed, but he followed the man anyway. "Do you know where he is?"

The grey-haired man made a wishy-washy motion with his hand. "Not exactly."

The blue-haired woman giggled. "He's just hard to miss."

They moved like wraiths through the smoke, the grey-haired man leading the charge and the blue-haired woman guarding his flank. Takumi lent support the way he did best—with well-placed, ethereal arrows shot through eye sockets and chinks in armor—but the smoke made him pause. Every time he spotted new figure, he had to ask himself, _Friend or foe?_ For a lone archer, that second's delay could very well mean death, a fact of which Takumi was made very much aware every time the blue-haired woman stabbed someone who had gotten uncomfortably close to Takumi's position.

A grandiose voice cut through the gloom: "And your death shall come in the form of me, Odin Dark!"

"Found him!" said the blue-haired woman brightly.

"Peri, my dear," the grey-haired man said with a grin, "you're a natural."

As lighting pulsed ahead in the gloom, Takumi asked, "Does he always… announce his attacks like that?"

"Always," said the woman.

"Long as I've known him," added the man.

" _I don't care how cool you think the magic is!"_ a vicious voice cut through the gloom. " _I need you to pay attention because I don't want to die!"_

"Oh, he's with Selena," the grey-haired man said, as if he had discovered something mildly interesting stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

As they got closer, Takumi could begin to make out two figures—one male, one female—fighting with their backs pressed against each other. She held a sword in a deceptively lax way, and it struck, swift and deadly as a coiled snake, if anyone came too near. He held a massive spellbook—a _book,_ Takumi couldn't help but marvel, _not a scroll_ —in one hand, and the other was twisted out before him. Lighting danced from his fingertips in controlled arcs so visually stunning it seemed more like art than martial magic.

"Odin!" the grey-haired man shouted the instant they were in earshot. "Selena!"

"Laslow?!" they both shouted in surprised unison, without breaking formation.

"I brought some friends!" the grey-haired man laughed. "The Hoshidan princeling needs Odin!"

"I'm not a prince-ling," Takumi shouted, still managing to sound huffy, "I am a _prince!"_

The blue-haired woman leaned too close into Takumi's personal bubble to inform him, "He's just teasing."

"How may I be of service?" the Nohrian mage asked, lightning still crackling at the edges of his fingers.

Takumi relayed Hinoka's idea as he strung the Fujin Yumi and aimed skyward. After a short prayer that his sister was nowhere near, he released the arrow. It streaked upwards like a signal flare, trailing blue light and disappearing into the gloom.

After a few moments, Takumi heard the rush of wings, and then Hinoka and Akatsuki appeared. Orochi was nowhere in sight. "C'mon, Odin!" she called. "We're getting rid of this damned smoke!"

The Nohrian mage laughed heartily as he mounted Akatsuki behind Hinoka, and then the Pegasus took off again, leaving Takumi alone with Prince Xander's retainers, and the sharp-tongued woman who made a habit of pissing everyone off. Takumi could almost respect her dedication to her craft, if she weren't so damned annoying.

"Now what?" the angry woman huffed.

"We wait," said Takumi.

-)

Xander was alone in the gloom.

He'd seen Takumi jump from Hinoka's Pegasus, and immediately sent his retainers after him. A lone archer wouldn't last long in this bloody smoke, and under no circumstances was an ally—foreign royalty or not—going to die while he still drew breath.

But alone in this smoke—which was obviously magic, since it didn't burn his eyes or make him cough, the way natural smoke would—Xander could swear he saw ghosts.

His memories of her were more snatches than anything—a head of blonde hair here, a kindly voice there, a warmhearted hug that made him feel safe in a way that, as an adult, only the blade would accomplish. The family portrait in the main hall told him he'd inherited her long, thin nose and curly blonde hair, as well as her thin frame (relatively speaking, and as opposed to Garon's bulky one), but the last time Xander had physically seen his mother, he had been very small, and crying about something or other.

She died later that evening, and Xander never even had the chance to say goodbye.

"Mother?"

The word was quiet, almost a whisper, and Xander couldn't even be certain he said it. Siegfried still held aloft, he moved toward where he swore he'd seen her, keeping an eye trained for potential threats.

He saw no lance-men or axe-men, but he could have _sworn_ he saw the edge of an ermine cloak, and the flash of black, Wyvern Lord armor that was not unlike Camilla's (albeit far more protective). _What is going on, here?_

Xander was a rational man. He believed in logic and reason and the strength of his sword arm. He had come up against things that should not be—like his adopted sister turning into an honest-to-the-gods _dragon_ , and invisible creatures who laid waste to astral plane villages and apparently once tried to kill the High Prince of Hoshido—and even if there was no firm answer, there were at least guesses at one.

But this made absolutely no sense. He was not sleep-deprived enough to be hallucinating like this, nor famished. If the smoke were causing it, then wouldn't the others be experiencing something similar? Someone would have panicked by now (Xander's money would have been on Niles or Setsuna, truth be told), or at least shouted. There had been no mutiny or rout, so Xander had to assume that either no one else was seeing this sort of thing, or his entire army was so mentally astute, they could attack anyhow.

He believed the former over the latter.

Unease began to creep into Xander's mind. Where was the enemy? And why was he seeing visions of his mother _now?_ It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Like his love for Corrin, this unease was overwhelming and unwelcome, and he wasn't certain he could do anything stop it, no matter how much he tried. His grip tightened on Siegfried as he tried to even out his breathing. There _had_ to be someone nearby. Xander was already covered in blood; a force this large and bloodthirsty simply could not have been defeated so quickly.

Gradually, Xander became aware of a shift in his perception. The fog-like smoke began to lessen, and he found he could see further in every direction. He caught sight of Laslow and Peri alongside Selena and Takumi, and headed toward them with no small amount of relief bubbling over in his chest. His retainers were real, and very much solid. He would sort out this hallucination business later.

"Lord Xander!" Laslow said as he approached. "You're pale as a sheet!"

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Peri added.

Xander could have choked.

"Lord Xander?" Peri asked, her brow furrowed. "You okay?"

He never got the chance to answer, for at that exact moment, the rest of the smoke cleared away.

The Key Dragons found themselves strewn across the village, nothing more than pockets of mercenaries here and there. Some found themselves uncomfortably close to an enemy they hadn't known was there, and others found themselves two or three steps shy of smashing into a wall that hadn't previously been there.

And perched on a rooftop above it all were Odin and Orochi, hands outstretched and breathing heavily. Hinoka and Akatsuki were not far beyond, keeping a watchful eye on the exhausted mages.

"Well now," said an irritatingly familiar voice, "what have we here?"

Xander turned on heel towards the sound, only to discover exactly what the village had warned of—a bald man with a nasty scar and a truly terrible beard.

"Prince Xander," said Hans with a wide-mouth grin, "what a surprise."

 **-)**

 **Anonymous: Hey, glad you're liking it! And you are apparently not the only one who had to google "defenestrate," so I wouldn't worry too much about it, lol.**


	28. Chapter 28

"What is the meaning of this?" Xander thundered, startling friend and foe alike. "Your orders were to guard our forts at the bottomless canyon, not lay waste to Hoshidan villages!"

Hans appeared to be chewing on something. "Orders changed."

"To _what?"_ Xander spat. "And from _whom?"_

Hans' eyebrow quirked. "King Garon."

"I _refuse_ to believe my father ordered this."

"Believe what you like," Hans said airily, "it's true." He bowed lowly to the two figures arriving behind Xander. "Ah Princess Camilla, Lady Corrin."

Xander had never been more grateful for his sisters' support than at that moment, when Camilla snapped, " _What is the meaning of this?"_

"As I was just telling your _dear brother_ , here…" Hans managed to make the operative words sound like an insult. "…Orders have changed."

"Your orders are reconnaissance," Camilla hissed, sounding for all the word like Ilse had landed beside her, " _not_ wholesale destruction."

Hans threw up his hands. "It's a _Hoshidan_ town!"

"These are innocent people," Corrin snarled.

"These are the _enemy,"_ Hans tried to reason with her.

"The military is the enemy," Xander cut in sharply. "The people are not."

Hinoka, Takumi, and Ryoma watched this display with varying degrees of horror. Quietly, and in Hoshidan, Hinoka said to her older brother, " _Xander mentioned before how much he hated King Garon's retainers. I think this man is one of them."_

 _"I can see why,"_ Ryoma replied, still in Hoshidan. _"He's vile."_

 _"He's a_ _Nohrian,"_ Takumi said derisively. " _Of course he's vile!"_

 _"Listen to them, dung-for-brains,"_ Hinoka ordered. _"The royal family is pissed."_

Takumi fell silent, listening to Xander, Camilla, Corrin, and this awful man argue for a moment longer. " _Something's wrong,"_ he admitted.

"That is enough!" Xander shouted over whatever excuses Hans had been spilling. The bald man looked with concern upon the Crown Prince, who was visibly seething, something that had happened maybe twice in the court's memory. "If I had the time or inclination, I would have you tried and hanged!"

Ryoma shut his eyes and breathed in deeply, knowing exactly how heavily each death weighed on a proper monarch. Takumi looked unsurprised. But Hinoka's eyes widened in their sockets, and she felt gutted, somehow. In every interaction she'd had with the Crown Prince of Nohr, he'd seemed stern but fair, almost… gentle.

The man standing across from her on the battlefield was anything but.

"I am King Garon's retainer!" Hans shouted back, heedless of the fact that he was arguing with royalty. "You wouldn't dare!"

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Try me."

Hans visibly tensed. "You wouldn't dare," he said again.

Xander took a measured step forward, towering over Hans at the proximity. "I am the Crown Prince," he said lowly, "I may dare whatever I wish."

Corrin was studying Xander with a knot in her stomach. She had never seen Xander like this, and was uncomfortably reminded of their father. Camilla, on the other hand, had a wry smile twisted across her lips, and had hefted her steel axe onto her shoulder. Waiting.

"You'll have to excuse the informality," Xander began, a smile not unlike Camilla's forming across his face, "but Corrin, Camilla, and I shall have to be your judge, jury, and executioner."

Across the field, Ryoma's eyebrows raised. " _Can they do that?"_ Takumi asked his older brother.

 _"Did you pay_ any _attention in your lessons that didn't involve archery?"_ Hinoka inputted.

 _"Of course they can,"_ Ryoma answered, ignoring his younger sister.

"Now, attend!" Xander drew Siegfried, and held the black blade aloft in a mock salute aimed right for Hans' throat. "Some of us do not kill the unarmed."

Hans looked from Xander to Camilla to Corrin and back again, and did the only thing that made any proper sense.

He turned tail and ran.

For a moment, all three of the royal siblings could only stare after him, dumbstruck. Had Hans really just backed down from a fight?

Camilla found her voice first: "Coward!"

"Go after him!" Corrin urged her dumbstruck brother, giving him a not-so-gentle shove forward. Xander didn't move. Corrin glanced exasperatedly to Camilla, who could only shake her head. "What are you doing?"

"We'll never make it," said the elder princess.

Xander sighed, Siegfried still held aloft. "He's going to make me do it," he said quietly, "isn't he?"

"Do what?" Corrin asked urgently.

"Sorry, darling," Camilla answered Xander—for perhaps the first time in living memory, ignoring Corrin.

"Do _what?"_ Corrin asked again, but both of her older siblings ignored her.

Xander sighed, and brought Siegfried back to a more comfortable position. He wrapped both of his hands around the hilt—and it still felt so odd, without his usual gauntlets—and brought the great sword over his head. He stepped forward with precision, bringing the sword down in a two-handed strike, as if there were something before him to cleave in half.

A great crescent of energy burst forth in the wake of the blade's arc, and the reddish-black magic bounded on Hans with the force of lightning. Most of the assembled crowd looked away, but Xander did not. As the hand that swung the blade, it was his duty to see the consequences through.

It was not pretty. But then, Siegfried's counter-magic did cleave Hans' entire body cleanly in half. Xander pushed down a wave of nausea, and instead, turned his attention to the rest of Hans' unit, such as it was.

"If anyone else does not wish to die," Xander called out, holding Siegfried aloft again, "lay down your arms."

"And take two steps back!" Camilla added, her voice no less resonant and commanding than her brother's.

Nohrian soldiers in various positions immediately dropped their weapons and took the requisite steps back. Some even put their hands on their heads with elbows akimbo. Xander didn't have to see their faces to know why. They were now terrified of their Crown Prince—or more accurately, what he could do with that legendary sword of his.

"What are we going to do?" Camilla asked Xander quietly.

"I'm thinking," Xander said shortly.

"You can't kill them!" Corrin said, aghast. "They surrendered."

Xander spared a glance for the naïve young woman. "We also can't let word of us being here reach father."

From across the way, the Hoshidan siblings watched their Nohrian counterparts argue, and it gave Ryoma an idea. He strode forward, shoulders back and head held high, the picture of the stern, honorable samurai, even without his usual red-and-white armor.

"Xander," he said as soon as he was within earshot.

The other man turned, his grip still tight around Siegfried. "Yes?"

"If I may?"

Xander blinked a few times in surprise. "It's your people who've been wronged," he finally said.

Ryoma smiled, but it was sad. He nodded to the Nohrians, and then sheathed Raijinto. "Nohrian soldiers," he called out, his baritone firm and strong on the late summer winds, "you are now war prisoners of Hoshido. As part of your debt to the country, you will remain in this village, which you have so _dutifully_ destroyed, and aid in rebuilding." He then turned to the villagers. "Who is the mayor, here?"

"I am," said an elderly voice. A woman nearly folded over with age hobbled forward, waving to the High Prince to help her stand out amongst the decimated village.

"These men and women are to be given adequate food and proper rest," Ryoma said to her, "but beyond that, how you deal with them is up to you."

The mayor bowed low, nearly toppling over in her haste to show proper respect. Ryoma winced internally. He hated when people did such things.

"Now," he added, "if anyone has a shovel and a decent back, there are graves to be dug."

"No need to strain yourselves," Xander called over, startling the villagers. "We'll burn our dead."

 **-)**

 **So this one turned out way shorter than expected, so… sorry? Not sorry.**

 **Anonymous: Glad you're enjoying it! And thanks, as always, for leaving me your thoughts.**


	29. Chapter 29

The half-destroyed village didn't have much by means of money, but they offered a hot meal and a bed at the (largely undamaged) inn for the next few nights, free of charge, which Xander and Camilla figured was good enough. Between that and the grateful villagers buying everyone pints of ale every few minutes, they made their money and then some. (Besides, it wasn't as if they actually _needed_ it.)

The Key Dragons were still largely keeping to one side or the other, though, and it was beginning to irk Camilla. Didn't they realize how important it was to Corrin that they at least _attempt_ to get along? It had seemed like progress had been made that night Kagero showed Laslow, Selena, and Odin her work, but that had gone as quick as it had come. Camilla was prepared to bet that Saizo had something to do with it. She needed something to break the ice, dammit.

Her gaze fell on Laslow, Selena, and Odin, clustered in a corner as was their usual. The day the three of them had come to court had been a true sight to see, and after testing their skills, Garon had been more than happy to give each of his sons and daughter a retainer of their very own (!). He'd made it sound like they'd just received a pet, not a servant.

And was Selena _ever_ prickly. Camilla remembered antagonizing her new retainer in childlike ways, although she hadn't been much older than Elise was now and should have been beyond that sort of thing. Xander, she knew, was so miffed at being assigned an effectively random man as his retainer that he had gone and recruited Peri the following spring. Never mind that _she_ was also effectively random—and apparently, a maniac.

Her eyes fell to the small band of musicians in the corner. There was a man playing a fiddle with a reasonable amount of talent, and a woman playing a sort of hand drum that thumped like a heartbeat.

She remembered the one time she'd stumbled on Laslow practicing dancing, in one of the various unused corridors in Castle Krakenburg. He'd been so embarrassed that he avoided Camilla for a month, but she hadn't the faintest idea why. He was a talented dancer, and clearly a dedicated one, at that.

She also recalled watching Odin aid Elise when the youngest princess had been learning to play the violin. The foreign-born sorcerer had exquisite taste in music, somehow, and was a patient teacher to the young Elise. Leo had finally given up on sending the man on ridiculous quests after stumbling upon Odin patiently teaching Elise to play _Etude No. 9 in D Flat._ Leo had also dismissed Elise's formal music tutor shortly after that.

Camilla glanced around the main room again, taking stock of just how many empty tankards there were amongst the Key Dragons. Maybe they didn't need a miracle to get along, after all. Maybe all they needed was a push.

Camilla got up and made her way over to the bar, chatting amiably with this person and that as she did so. She found that teasing Takumi was almost as much fun as teasing Leo, and Kaze was indeed as kind as he appeared. It made her happy that Corrin had such a gentlemanly and dedicated retainer.

Camilla leaned against the bar, catching the attention of the bartender with little trouble. She gave him an order he then scurried to fill, and turned to survey the room again. Odin, Selena, and Laslow were still happily chatting in their corner, and her brother was sitting at a table with Corrin, Kaze, and Niles—undoubtedly trying to keep Niles from spoiling poor Corrin's ears, or worse. It almost made her laugh to remember the veritable horde of romance novels beneath Corrin's bed back at the Northern Fortress.

The bartender returned with the requested drinks, and Camilla conned a tray out of him. She recalled learning to carry a tray maid-style one sunny afternoon that she also spent prying information out of one of the butlers about her older half-brother, Quintus. Camilla smiled faintly at the memory.

She was all smiles when she asked the fiddler if he would mind ever so much if she could borrow his instrument? It would be returned in the greatest of health.

The bewildered man passed it over without protest, although his eyes didn't leave the instrument until it was back in his hands a short while later.

Camilla rounded on Laslow, Odin, and Selena's table, and all three of them seemed to sense her presence, and jerked their heads up at her approach.

"Lady Camilla!" Selena said, and then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth.

Camilla laughed. "It's quite all right, darling. I think the village has already figured us out, no doubt thanks to Xander and Ryoma." She rolled her eyes.

"Siegfried truly is a wondrous blade!" Odin exclaimed.

Camilla bowed her head politely in his direction, and then arrived at her aim: "Could I trouble the three of you for a performance?" She held up the violin and gave it a little shake.

Laslow immediately blanched, which was not unexpected. Selena pursed her lips, no doubt trying to determine how best to refuse her liege. But Odin cocked his head and studied the Cherrywood violin with interest. "Where did milady uncover such a lovely instrument?" Odin asked.

Camilla's smile curled across her uncharacteristically delicate features. "I borrowed it. Would you care to see it?"

Wordlessly, Odin accepted the violin and bow. He gently ran his calloused fingers across the Cherrywood body, the horsehair strings. He put the instrument experimentally up to his chin and ran the bow curiously over the strings. It made a resonant, though tuneless, sound.

"Leo has mentioned you play violin beautifully, Odin," Camilla interjected sweetly, and as if she didn't already know.

"Not nearly so well as some of my friends," Odin murmured over the body of the instrument. "'Tis just a skill all noble boys learn."

Camilla's ears pricked up. "Are you noble-born?"

Selena's brown eyes widened almost comically. "Odin!"

He looked dismayed, but Camilla only laughed, and filed that tidbit away for later prying. She knew she had them from the moment Odin looked upon the instrument with wonder. "So how about it?" she asked.

"Fine," Selena said, sounding bored.

But Laslow was still pale as the moon. "You want me to dance in front of all of these people?"

"Oh, not without help, darling." Camilla set down the tray of drinks she'd been carrying. "Whiskey or vodka?" she asked, gesturing to each mixed drink in turn.

Laslow glanced up into the purple eyes of the devil herself. "Both?"

Camilla laughed, and made a dismissive gesture. Laslow took that as a yes, and picked up both drinks from the tray. He studied the whiskey mixer in one hand, and then the vodka drink in the other, before shrugging, dumping one into the other, and chugging the whole concoction.

Odin cackled, and clapped his hands a few times as Laslow drank the entire thing in one go. Camilla cocked an eyebrow, mutely impressed, but Selena's face twisted into something utterly horrified.

"Laslow!" she shouted as he thumped the glass back down on the table. "Why don't you love yourself?"

"My father?" he asked without really asking, before setting about loosening the buckles on his clothes so that they rattled with every move he made. They weren't chains like his mother had, but they would have to do.

Camilla made herself scarce as the three Ylisseans got to their feet. Odin leaned against the table and fitted the violin beneath his chin, playing a few experimental strings of notes to get a better feel for the instrument (the fiddler was watching intently from the corner of the bar). Selena hopped up on top of the table, and imperiously crossed one leg over the other as she sat on the edge, leaning back against her palms. Laslow, however, stood a few paces in front of his friends, the various buckles and bits of metal on his mercenary armor clanking all the while.

The three friends looked to one another, and then Odin began. He played a single note in a long stretch, almost like a mournful cry, and Laslow began keeping time by tapping one foot theatrically on the floor before him, like a heartbeat. Or a war march.

By the time Selena began, they had everyone's attention:

"His eyes were red,

The Risen had spread,

The people all did flee.

The morning broke,

The Princess awoke—

Upon time's stormy sea."

Her voice was strong and clear, if noticeably untrained. Laslow had begun to dance in the way of his mother, moving amongst the crowd and drawing everyone's attention. Selena continued:

"The Falchion Blade

Ne'er has strayed

From Exalt Blood.

Swords raised high,

They took to the skies,

All united as one."

Odin took a moment to make his instrument sing, riffing off the melody and filling the break in lyrics with runs and trills. He grinned the way he only did when making spells or joking with Laslow and Selena; Camilla was saddened that Leo couldn't see it.

Laslow danced in perfect time with the music, and Camilla found herself mesmerized by the man's sinuous movements. She'd never noticed such fluidity in his swordplay, although there were certainly echoes of it in the way his thrusts and parries were true extensions of himself, plus his footwork never faltered and he often stood on tiptoe.

Camilla also couldn't help but glance to Peri. The cavalier was watching Laslow intently, a curious expression across her incongruously delicate features. Had Camilla been paying even closer attention, she would also have noticed that Peri's gaze never left Laslow.

Then the three Ylisseans picked up, double time:

"So, don't cry for me, I'm on my way,

The Shepherds will save the day.

Cry with me, I'm as I should be:

One with eternity.

"Don't cry for us, we'll end this blight,

The Dragon's reign ends tonight.

Pray for us, we're on the way.

Naga is with us today."

Xander's brow furrowed as he listened further. _Naga._ That was a deity Laslow swore to sometimes, right? It sounded hopelessly familiar. Could this be a song from their homeland? It sounded little different than any other tavern song Xander had ever heard.

"In the veins of father, blood rings true,

And in the daughter, p'wer sings blue.

Parallel roles and parallel fates—

They'll end the end of days.

And the High Deliverer, raises her hand,

The High Deliverer, on her own, will stand.

The six-eyed crest holds no power here;

She'll make hers disappear."

Couples here and there had begun to get up and dance in time to the rowdy ballad. Niles had pulled Beruka away from her corner and her untouched tankard of ale, and Oboro and wheedled Takumi into dancing with her in the way only good friends can. The younger prince looked none too happy for it (but then, he never did). There were villagers, too, dancing and having a good time. Laslow particularly enjoyed not dancing alone anymore.

But then, Camilla's scheming bore fruit.

With his friend and fellow retainer currently occupied, Hinata had gotten to his feet and, in that loosely formal way of the Hoshidan gentleman, asked Peri to dance. The cavalier was so stunned, she glanced back to Xander. The Crown Prince waved her off, lost in thought, and Peri confusedly got to her feet and allowed herself to be pulled onto the dance floor.

Laslow tried not to scowl as the burly samurai danced with his fighting partner. He didn't _think_ Hinata meant anything by it, but Laslow was also out of practice reading Hoshidan body language. He tried not to dwell on it as he joined his voice to Selena's for the chorus:

"So, don't cry for her, she's on her way,

The Puppet will save the day.

Cry with her, she's as she should be:

One with eternity.

"Don't cry for her, she'll end this blight,

The Dragon's reign ends tonight.

Pray for us, we're on the way.

Naga is with us today."

The words burned in Laslow's throat, like good whiskey, or bad rum. He recalled the uncountable evenings where Brady fiddled away and the whole of the Shepherds sang along with him. It was so quiet, just hearing Selena's voice, not outshone by Cordelia's or paled beside Lon'qu's. It sounded so forlorn, listening to just Odin's violin, and not having Lissa playing one alongside, or Henry clapping enthusiastically somewhere off near the drinks. It felt so lonely, not having Olivia to dance beside (off to the side, of course!), or Frederick's scowl to dodge.

Laslow liked to think that he honored his mother, dancing for his allies like this. He liked to imagine she could, at any moment, materialize out of the crowd and fall into step beside him as he twisted between tables and coerced the room into moving with him. He also, in his most private moments, liked to think she was proud of him.

Laslow sorely missed the familiar weight of the dancer's chain at his hip.

"And the High Deliverer seals his fate,

And the Prince, the martyr, stands in his way.

'Don't you know this isn't your fault?'

And down goes our Exalt.

And the Dragon God raises his hands,

And the Dragon God, on his feet will stand.

Wings unfurl, black as night:

Red eyes the only light.

"So, don't cry for him, he's on his way,

The Shepherds will save the day.

Cry with him, he's as he should be:

One with eternity.

"Don't cry for us, we'll end this blight,

The Dragon's reign ends tonight.

Pray for us, we're on the way.

Naga is with us today."

Odin's violin fell away, and Laslow froze in perfect stillness. Selena sat up, leaning forward instead of back, as though she were telling a secret to the quieted room. Once again, the music shifted. But this time, it was into something quieter and far less rowdy. Almost like a lullaby, albeit an eerie one.

"When the Wary Knight, and the Princess of Gold,

Overcame their friend, so bold,

And when the Prince extended a hand,

Their whole story began again."

As one, all three Ylisseans picked up with the chorus, exactly as rowdy as before:

"So, don't cry for them, they're on their way,

The Exalt will save the day.

Cry with him, he's as he should be:

One with eternity.

"Don't cry for her, she'll end this blight,

The Dragon's reign ends tonight.

Pray for them, they're on the way:

Naga is with them today."

 **-)**

 **Happy Halloween! This chapter only took so long because poetry takes me FOREVER.**

 **Guest: You right.**


	30. Chapter 30

A short while after the room had settled down again, Hinoka drew herself up to her full height and marched her way right over to where the Nohrian princess was chatting with her emotionless retainer.

"Hinoka, darling," Camilla said as soon as the woman was in earshot, "you know the battle is over, right? I daresay you could fix your hair any time, now."

Hinoka's eyes narrowed as she lowered herself over the edge of the table, pressing her palms flat against the wood. "Can you cut the shit?" she said in clipped, accented Nohrian. "I want to talk about Corrin."

Something flashed across the other princess' wrought-iron features, and then her lips curled into a cat-like smile. "Very well." She gestured to the open chairs about her table, then turned to Beruka and added, "Leave us."

The blue-haired woman nodded, and swiftly rose from her chair and departed without making a single sound.

"So," said Camilla as Hinoka lowered herself uneasily into a chair, "what do you want to know about my darling little sister?"

"One," Hinoka said, just barely stopping herself from biting the word off, "is she happy?"

Camilla appeared taken aback. "For the most part." She huffed an annoyed sigh, mostly at herself, and added, "Her time in Hoshido was… invaluable to her sense of self."

Hinoka felt a little tit-for-tat was only fair. "She spoke endlessly of you four."

Some of the tension in Camilla's face drained, but only just. "Did she?"

Hinoka nodded, a wry smile twisting across her face. "There was Elise, who was a bundle of energy, by all accounts, and the polar opposite of Sakura." Hinoka couldn't help but smile, just a little.

Camilla had heard rumors of the Hoshidan royal family, of course, but it was another thing entirely to hear about them from the same perspective. "Is your younger sister sedate, then?"

Hinoka snorted, but it was good-natured. "And shy!"

Camilla felt herself laugh, just a bit. "The opposite, indeed. And what did she say of my younger brother, Leo?"

"That he was brilliant. Spent a lot of his time pouring over ancient tomes and magical theory. Also that he was a bit of a grump." Hinoka's voice grew a touch teasing. "No wonder you can push Takumi's buttons so well."

"Hinoka, darling," Camilla said, "I push _everyone's_ buttons well."

Hinoka burst into genuine laughter for the first time in the entire conversation, and felt a bit lighter for it. "You know, the way Corrin talks about you, that doesn't seem possible."

Camilla smiled, but it was sad. "In case you didn't recognize this earlier—Corrin has no idea what Xander, Leo, and I are capable of. I'd rather she see me as an overly-doting older sister than… well, what I really am."

It was a lowball pitch, really. Hinoka _had_ to take it: "Well, what _are_ you, really?"

Camilla trained one lilac eye on the Hoshidan. The other remained hidden beneath her voluminous bangs. "I'm sure you've heard the things my father has made me do, even all the way in Castle Shirasagi."

"Not from you." Hinoka set about looking for her tankard, and for the first time in the conversation, realized she'd left it with Ryoma and Takumi.

Camilla sighed. "So what did Corrin say of Xander?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"Hinoka," Camilla said, and then added, much more softly, " _please."_

Hinoka made an annoyed, very Hoshidan-sounding noise, and then relented. "Corrin always grew very quiet when she spoke of Xander. She was proud of him, of course. Said he was the best Crown Prince a country could ask for, devoted to his duty and a powerful swordsman, but…"

"But?" Camilla prompted.

"Is _that…"_ Hinoka gestured to where Xander and Corrin appeared deep in conversation. "…what I think it is?"

Camilla followed the gesture and studied her siblings for a moment. Corrin had the same demeanor she would have had whilst speaking to anyone, but Xander was listening intently, leaning ever-so-slightly toward her. His newly-brunet bangs covered most of hard-etched facial features, but Camilla knew from experience that they would be far softer than was his usual. His brow would be nearly unfurrowed, the worry lines smoothed out, and his eyes luminous with her attention.

As always, her instinct was misdirection, but Camilla figured that for her unfettered honesty, Hinoka deserved a bit in kind. Even if it would open all sorts of nasty doorways, it was better to have the answer in the open, anyhow. It wasn't like Xander could hide it from anyone paying attention.

"Yes," Camilla said quietly, and after a long moment. "It is."

Hinoka took this news far better than Camilla had feared. The Hoshidan princess' fists curled on the table, and her jaw set into a stubborn angle reminiscent of Takumi's typical expression. Camilla almost smiled at the family resemblance, but for the next words out of Hinoka's mouth:

"But, he treated her differently than he did you or Elise."

Camilla had to shut her eyes at the force of her heart breaking. When she could stand to open them again, she found Hinoka staring at her curiously and found she could not bear it. She made a come hither gesture in the air, not really at anyone, but Beruka appeared a moment later.

"Beruka, be a dear and bring the princess and I two shots of vodka." Beruka nodded and began to disappear again, but Camilla added, "Two _double_ shots of vodka." and the assassin stilled.

"My lady?" she said.

Camilla shut her eyes again. "Please go."

"At once." And Beruka was gone.

"Camilla?" Hinoka put forward.

"Of _course_ he treated her differently," Camilla said, without opening her eyes, " _look_ at him! He's breaking apart."

Hinoka glanced back over to where Xander and Corrin were speaking. She studied him for a longer moment than usual, and suddenly found the tension in his shoulders and the vibrating energy contained in his muscled frame. Hinoka didn't need to see much of his face to know that beneath the softness in his features, there was a great sadness.

Hinoka glanced back to Camilla. "Does she know?"

Camilla nodded. "They had it out on his birthday last year. After Xander misread too many signs, and Corrin finally understood why he was so _rigid_ in her presence."

Hinoka's jaw dropped in horror. "On his _birthday?"_

"And just how often do you think my older brother gets rip-roaringly drunk?"

Hinoka had nothing to offer except "About as often as mine."

Camilla snorted, and finally opened her eyes. Hinoka couldn't help but notice they were shining with unshed tears. "Heavy lies the head that wears the crown," Camilla said blackly, "no matter what country he's to rule."

"I never wanted Ryoma's place," Hinoka confessed without really knowing why, "even though I know, if something were to happen to him, it would become mine." Her heart clenched, both at the thought of losing her steadfast older brother, and being forced to take his place as High Princess.

"Nor I, Xander's," Camilla returned. "It's why he could trust me. We were each other's only friend for a great many years."

"What about Elise and Leo? Are you speaking of before their time?"

Camilla just _looked_ at Hinoka for a long moment. "No, darling, during the Succession War."

Hinoka had heard stories, of course, of all of King Garon's concubines dogfighting over their child's claim to the Nohrian throne. She'd always thought it horrible that all that bloodshed had resulted from one man's infidelity, but had never really dwelt on what it would mean to be a child—well, probably a pawn—in that war until that very moment.

She could offer no words of empathy or consolation—not that she had many—because at that moment, Beruka returned with the liquor Camilla had asked for. The assassin set down the small glasses in front of each princess, and then departed again. Hinoka spared only a moment's thought for the fact that an infamous Nohrian assassin had just brought her a drink, because Camilla picked hers up swiftly and without fear.

Hinoka plucked her own tiny glass from the tabletop. She was only second in line to the throne, after all. She doubted she was important enough to assassinate, particularly publically, and trusted that the Nohrians would remain her allies so long as the truce held. (And also, if they didn't, that Takumi would have their heads.)

"To our brothers." There was something caught in Camilla's throat.

"To our brothers," Hinoka agreed, and they clinked glasses.

The Nohrian liquor burned down Hinoka's throat in a way that was far different from sake or even the imported wines Mikoto had enjoyed. Its burn was refined, somehow, possessed of clarity and alacrity.

"So what do they do?" Hinoka asked. "Corrin and Xander, that is?"

"Oh, Xander keeps himself ever-so-tightly buttoned, and Corrin pretends she's no idea anything's different, and no one's the wiser." Camilla gestured to where her siblings were currently engrossed in conversation. "Look. He'll catch himself in a moment. The only reason he hasn't yet is because he's had a few pints; ordinarily he takes pains not to be alone with her."

Hinoka glanced back over to where her little sister and the Crown Prince of Nohr were sitting, and sure enough, within a few minutes, Xander seemed to give himself a little shake and bid his good-byes. Corrin tried not to look hurt at his leaving, and failed dismally.

Hinoka was surprised when Xander then came to their table, but Camilla wasn't. Xander pulled up a chair beside his sister and then immediately hid his head in his arms. All that remained visible was a mop of curly brown hair that Hinoka felt the distinct need to muss.

So she did. "Chin up," she added cheerfully, "at least we won today."

Xander's head snapped up immediately at her touch, his hands flying to his head as if to push her away. "Don't do that."

Hinoka couldn't help the eyebrow in her hairline, but her "Sorry." was at least sincere.

"You're forgiven." Xander thumped his head back into his arms, his face disappearing from view again.

"Everything alright, Xander dear?" Camilla asked lightly.

For a long time, it seemed like he wasn't going to respond at all. Hinoka shot a questioning look to Camilla, who waved it off and trained an expectant stare at the back of Xander's head.

Then, he finally said, muffled by his arms, "I killed an unarmed man today."

"Oh, Xander, it was _Hans!"_ Camilla patted his shoulder consolingly. "It had to be done."

Xander didn't move, which left Hinoka a touch miffed, although she knew that was ridiculous. Being harassed by one's sister was quite different from being harassed by a virtual stranger.

"He was still unarmed," Xander argued.

"You had already challenged him to a duel," Camilla reasoned. "It's hardly your fault he turned and ran. Besides—" That cat-like grin returned to her face, and Hinoka didn't like it one bit. "—you could hardly let knowledge of our plans here reach father's ears. You had to protect us."

There was a pause, during which Xander surmised that he'd been defeated. But still, he muttered, " _Unarmed."_

"Oh, do cheer up," Camilla said with a laugh. "Just have a drink with some pretty girls and forget this whole thing, eh?"

Xander lifted his head just enough to pin down Camilla in a brown-eyed stare. "You're my sister," he said flatly.

"I'm still pretty!"

Hinoka found herself howling with laughter, and couldn't help but notice the blush creeping across Xander's face as he sat up. "I didn't mean to imply you _weren't_ pretty," Xander said to Camilla gruffly, "only that your implication doesn't work when you're _related."_

Camilla huffed an over exaggerated sigh. "Well, Hinoka is prepossessing, and you aren't related to _her."_

"That's still only _one_ pretty girl," Xander returned, visibly fighting a smile.

"Ugh!" Camilla threw up her hands, any trace of her earlier tears gone. "You're impossible!" She got to her feet. "I'm getting another drink."

"If you bring me back an ale," Xander called after her, "Elise will love you forever!"

"Elise already loves me forever!" Camilla called back over her shoulder, which set Xander laughing.

Hinoka studied the man with a curious lilt to her facial expression. She had only ever heard stories and rumors of the stern Crown Prince with sword in hand, the way he had been earlier today. He was still intimidating as the Void, sure, but arguing with his sister in the way all siblings did, and laughing in the deep, bellyaching sort of way, Hinoka couldn't even begin to picture the stern figure from earlier, much less the monster from the rumors.

All she saw now was simply a man with a great burden to carry.

"Please pass on my thanks to your brother," Xander said after his laughter died down. "I truly appreciated his assistance."

It took Hinoka a moment to realize what he was talking about the prisoners from earlier. "Oh, you don't need to thank him for saving lives you didn't want taken. It's his duty, after all."

"Still," Xander said, "being a Crown Prince is a thankless job."

Unbidden, Camilla's words from earlier rang in Hinoka's ears: _Heavy lies the head that wears the crown, no matter what country he's to rule._

"So I've heard," she said.

After a moment, Xander coughed, suddenly finding himself embarrassed. "Is Akatsuki alright? You really must've put her through her paces, ferrying people across the battlefield like that."

Hinoka couldn't help but be taken aback. Warmth spread across her chest like butter in a hot skillet. Really? He was asking after her Pegasus? Ryoma didn't even do that; he just assumed she had things under control. (Which she did, but the concern was still nice.)

"She's fine," Hinoka said sincerely. "We've done stupider things."

"'Been worse' does not equal 'fine.'"

"You sound," Hinoka proclaimed with a laugh, "like Ryoma."

"I'm not surprised," Xander countered like the swordsman he was. "Your brother tells me that all the time."

Hinoka's brow furrowed. "Ryoma tells you that you're like him?"

Xander shook his head, brown curls flying every which way. Hinoka found it endearing on a man so otherwise etched in stone. "No, Takumi tells me I'm a worse version of Ryoma."

Hinoka sighed, and for some reason, it made Xander laugh. "That sounds like Takumi," she said, annoyed.

"Did something happen to him, when he was young?" Xander asked, his intoxication ahead of his manners. "He seems unusually…" He looked for a word. "…prickly, for one so young."

Hinoka offered the answer with a somewhat apologetic face: "Corrin was taken from us."

Xander froze, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. "I see," he said after a moment.

"That's also why I became a Pegasus knight," Hinoka said, not really knowing why. "I wanted to be able to save her from…" She trailed off.

Xander said it for her: "From us Nohrian scum."

"I didn't say that!" Hinoka was acutely aware of how hot her face was becoming.

"It's alright," Xander said softly. "My father has hardly done anything to engender love in your people. It's only natural you'd hate us."

"I don't hate you," Hinoka said, surprised to find it was true.

"But you did, once?"

After a moment, Hinoka said, "I hated an idea. It's easy to hate an idea. It's much harder to hate a man."

"And isn't that the truth?" Xander said, not really to her.

Hinoka couldn't pry any further, because at that moment, Camilla returned with three tankards of ale. She thumped one in front of her brother and one in front of Hinoka, who felt that same butter-in-a-hot-skillet feeling in her chest at being included.

"What are you smiling at?" Xander asked her as Camilla reclaimed her chair. "You look like the cat who finally caught the canary."

And true, Camilla was grinning from ear to ear, but for once, Hinoka would not have described it as 'cat-like.' "It's _working,"_ Camilla said in a way that could only be described as bubbly.

"What's working?" Xander asked. "Your little plan?"

"One, it's not little. Two…" Camilla leaned closer to Xander to repeat, "It's. _working!"_

"What plan?" Hinoka asked, feeling distinctly out of the loop.

"Take a look around," Camilla said, gesturing grandly toward the room.

Hinoka followed her gesture, and was surprised at what she found. Everywhere she looked, it seemed the two sides had finally merged. She found Niles, Beruka, Orochi, and Azama all rolling dice at one table, while Setsuna looked on with blithe interest. At another, Kagero and Odin were deep in conversation about something that made Odin periodically gesture wildly. Kaze and Saizo were bickering with each other—and with Laslow and Peri, who appeared more amused with the twins than anything. Ryoma and Takumi were sitting with Corrin, who had their full attention as she told some sort of wild tale, complete with hand motions not unlike Odin's.

"I don't believe it," Hinoka said.

Camilla took a self-assured swig of ale. "I know what I'm doing."

Xander held up his tankard. "To my sister. May she always be my spymaster."

"I'll drink to that!" Camilla clanked her glass against Xander's.

"I got a better one," Hinoka said, surprised when it earned her the full attention of both Xander and Camilla. She raised her own tankard. "To friendship between our families."

"And _I,"_ said Xander, clanking his tankard against Hinoka's, "will drink to that."

 **-)**

 **Fun fact number one: Writing Camilla and Hinoka's interactions was super fun. 10/10 would recommend.**

 **Fun fact number two: I had to do a shot of vodka to remember what it tasted like, lol. I'm more of a whiskey person myself.**

 **Fun fact number three: To everyone who asked, the song in the last chapter was inspired by Blood Red Roses, by C21fx.**

 **Review Responses—**

 **Anonymous: Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying my work.**

 **OneGuest: The drinking song is sort of a collaboration between the parents' and children's knowledge, so yes, it is about both timelines.**


	31. Chapter 31

Ranwara.

Xander wasn't quite sure what to make of the isolated little town at the foot of the mountains. By all accounts, its hot springs and picturesque mountain landscape should have brought tourists and trade from far and wide. But instead, the place was quiet, and eerily so. The townspeople glared at the Key Dragons as they moved through the city streets, and it took four tries to find an inn that would take them.

"Now what?" Camilla asked quietly over the royals' dinner that evening.

"We go up the mountain," Takumi said. He left the 'duh' unspoken.

"Do we know where _exactly_ we're going?" Xander pressed.

Ryoma made a face. "I had hoped to gather more information once we arrived, but…" He looked around the room, finding himself pinned in the glare of at least three different locals, as well as the innkeeper's Chow Chow.

"Well, we can't just hike up the mountain until we find something," Hinoka said. "That'll get us all killed."

"I know," said Ryoma patiently, "but I haven't been up to come up with a second idea."

Across the room, an emaciated beggar stumbled into the bar. The inn's patrons turned up their noses at the man's ratty clothing and rancid smell, and the innkeeper had grown tense as a coiled spring as he continued to polish glasses. The whole scene had the air of being done before.

"Genji," the beggar was saying to the innkeeper as he shuffled up to the bar, "Genji, _onegaishimasu_."

The two began conversing in quick Hoshidan, and although Corrin couldn't follow the exact wording, she could read the situation well enough. The innkeeper looked tired of the man already, and the beggar was nothing but skin and bone.

At that point, Corrin got to her feet so suddenly, none of the other royals noticed until it was too late to stop her. Xander tried to catch her attention and a fistful of _tatami_ armor, but missed by a hair's breadth. He huffed an annoyed breath as Camilla hissed, " _Corrin! Come back here!"_

Corrin moved easily through the room, sliding between tables and unperturbed by the dagger-like stares she received. The samurai armor she wore made no sound as she moved, unlike her usual steel. "Innkeeper," she called, and when the man didn't turn, she added, more firmly, "Genji."

Genji turned to face her just as Corrin reached the bar. "Yes?"

"How much for a meal?"

Genji pointedly glanced over to where the rest of Corrin's family sat, clearly around the remains of a meal, and then back to her. "Six copper."

Corrin reached into her pocket and withdrew a small pouch. She fished around it for a moment before laying six copper pieces on the bar. They gleamed in the firelight.

"I want to buy a meal," she said, putting the pouch away again.

Genji's eyes narrowed. But nevertheless, he scooped up the coins and, after a few moments, turned to fill a bowl with the evening's pottage. He set it before her without a care as to whether is slopped over the sides.

Corrin immediately pushed the bowl down the bar, until it sat before Shiro the beggar. He looked at her with deep suspicion in his eyes, but Corrin only smiled broadly. "You know," she said, "I don't think I'm hungry, after all."

Shiro studied the woman for another moment, and then bowed in thanks. Corrin nodded in return, and then removed herself from the bar. The townsfolk continued to stare at her, although it had now amped up to a glare.

"Corrin," Camilla said sternly, " _what_ did we say about drawing attention to ourselves?"

"Were you just going to let the man starve?" Corrin hissed back.

Camilla looked taken aback, and so it was Xander who said, "That man will starve whether or not you take pity on him, Corrin. He's a beggar in a town that clearly holds no love for him."

"Don't be cold," Corrin snapped, and Xander, too, recoiled.

"One meal won't make much of a difference in the long run, Corrin," Hinoka tried, a bit more gently.

"Yes, it will!"

For a brief moment, Takumi could once again see the dragon in his sister's eyes, and it made him shudder.

"A good queen cares for even the least of her people," Ryoma said, not exactly to anyone.

"Exactly," Corrin said emphatically. " _Thank you._ I don't understand why you all are so opposed to caring for people."

"That isn't true at all," Xander countered, visibly angry though trying not to show it. "You know _exactly_ how many are starving in Nohr, and why father began this damn war in the first place!"

"So one person is a tragedy, and a lot of them are a statistic?" Corrin countered hotly. "Why are you so _cold,_ Xander? You're better than that."

"You can't save everyone, Corrin," Xander said, his speech crisp and clipped. "You can only do what's right by the most amount of people."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Takumi said, speaking up for the first time in the entire conversation, "but I agree with him."

"And what's best for _that guy…"_ Corrin gestured to the bar. "…is to feed him!"

"And what's best for the Key Dragons is not to anger this town," Xander countered, " _or_ alert father to our whereabouts."

Takumi squinted towards the bar. "Where'd that guy go, anyway?"

Five royal heads turned as one to look at the bar, which had gained a certain Shiro-sized hole atop one of the barstools.

"Shit," said Xander, and the same time Hinoka said, " _Kuso."_

"Calm down," Ryoma said, sounding perfectly reasonable. "It might not mean anything."

"Or we might all be dead by morning," Takumi added. "You never know."

Xander drew in a tense breath that cracked four different joints, and Camilla buried her nose in her glass of wine. Ryoma's jaw was set as he turned over various solutions to the problem, and Hinoka had just turned to Takumi to say something when a quiet voice said, "Excuse me?"

Shiro the beggar found himself pinned under six weighted stares. He shifted from one bare foot to the other, and held up two purple-and-white flowers in both palms, like a religious offering.

"I just wanted to say thank you properly," he said in halting Nohrian.

"What are these?" Corrin asked, accepting the flowers from the man. A vein pulsed in Xander's neck; Ryoma turned an appraising eye on both the man and the flowers.

"They are _Yureihana_ ," Shiro said. "They only grow in a secret grove in the mountain." He smiled, showing more than a few missing teeth. "Crushed and burned, they aid in relaxation."

"Ghost flowers?" Takumi translated. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"They've only grown since this past summer," the man offered.

Ryoma and Xander exchanged a look. That was exactly how long these ghost-like creatures had been invading Nohr and Hoshido. The name couldn't be coincidence, nor the timeline.

"Could you show us the grove in which you found them?" Ryoma asked.

Shiro glanced to Corrin, then nodded vigorously. "For the kindness she showed me? Of course."

Corrin shot a very smug look Xander's way, and the Crown Prince's face flattened out completely.

-)

In the pale blue pre-dawn light, the mountain was eerily still. There were no natural sounds on the trail—no birds chirping, water rushing, or creatures moving amongst the underbrush. It was as if a funeral shroud had descended upon the landscape.

Shiro appeared unaffected, chatting happily with Corrin and whomever else wandered into her bubble. Xander kept a weather eye on the beggar-man, searching for anything in his movement or persona that could possibly lend itself to deceit. He also tried not to dwell on the man's ratty traveling cloak, which just screamed 'sinister,' to Xander.

"You worry too much," said a hoarse voice.

He glanced to Hinoka, noting the tension in her lithe frame. Akatsuki was nowhere to be found, but the elder Hoshidan princess was known for loaning her to others who needed to be carried for a bit.

"For good reason," Xander returned.

"I'm sure," Hinoka said, "but you look like you've seen a ghost."

Xander winced, and for some reason, found himself saying, "I think I did."

Hinoka's eyes shot open and her hand immediately snapped to the hilt of her naginata. "When? Just now?"

"No, before." At Hinoka's questioning look, Xander added, annoyed, "In that damned smoke."

"Oh." Hinoka visibly relaxed, taking her hand away from the weapon on her back. "You were probably just seeing things."

Xander didn't think so, but he also didn't want to put the thought in the Hoshidans' minds that he was losing it. "Perhaps."

"War takes a lot out of you," Hinoka said, not unkindly. "You would do well to, uh, _relax,_ every now and then."

"Relax?" Xander asked, straight-faced. "I've not the faintest notion of the word."

As Hinoka's laugh drifted across the suppressed silence, Peri turned to Laslow to confess, "I don't like it, here."

"Can't say I'm fond of it, either," he returned. "Something about this mountain is… uncanny."

Peri visibly shivered, and Laslow fought the urge to put an arm around her or give her his cloak or something. Truth be told, the eerie stillness of this mountain trail reminded him somewhat of the Mila Tree, with its quiet waters and not-quite-natural sunshine. Although that sacred forest held an air of peace, it too felt manufactured, and unusually still. He wished Odin or Selena were nearby to confirm this, but the two of them had found themselves on the other side of the group, for some reason.

"Something bothering you?" Peri asked.

Laslow pulled a face, and opted for a half-truth. "I feel as though I've been here before."

"Well, have you?"

"Not literally, I don't think."

"Hmm." Peri chewed on one of her nails as they continued up the mountain. "I hope Lady Corrin knows what she's doing."

"So do I, Peri my dear."

At the head of the group, Corrin had turned to Shiro to ask, "How much further?"

"Shouldn't be long now, miss," Shiro said. "But, I've been meaning to ask—what does a mercenary company need _Yureihana_ for?" His facial expression grew dark. "You don't plan to sell them, do you?"

Corrin immediately shook her head. "We're just looking for something we think might be nearby, is all."

"Good." It was rather more emphatic than necessary, Corrin thought. She glanced to Kaze, who nodded almost imperceptibly. So it wasn't just her, then. Shiro was oddly protective of this ghost flower meadow.

"The Lady wouldn't like it," Shiro added.

"The Lady?" Corrin repeated. "You didn't mention anything about someone living up here."

"Oh, the Lady doesn't live up here so much as rule it."

Corrin's sense of unease only grew at the announcement. She almost turned to find Xander or Ryoma, but both of her older brothers had cautioned her not to trust the man, and she could hardly prove them right. They'd be insufferable.

Shiro pulled up short, and Corrin nearly walked into him. "Shiro?" she asked.

"We're here," he said. "Quiet, now."

Corrin turned to Kaze to have him relay the message, but he was already gone, spreading the word amongst the rest of the Key Dragons. She saw several people gearing up to fight, not the least of which were Xander and Camilla. Oh, how she _wished_ her older siblings would just _trust_ her! At least Ryoma and Hinoka hadn't drawn _their_ weapons.

Shiro insisted on leading the Key Dragons single-file through the underbrush, and for the first time in a long while, Corrin was grateful that Camilla and Xander insisted on proximity. They followed right behind her, Xander ducking a truly ridiculous amount to get under and around the overgrown tree limbs and bushes that Shiro led them through, and Camilla's face belying her disgust at the unkempt Hoshidan flora.

And then, all at once, they arrived at the clearing.

In the pale blue pre-dawn mist, the _Yureihana_ clearing was filled with purple and white flowers, all glowing iridescent in the fey light. The nearby cherry trees had lost their blossoms and stood skeletal, and the grass seemed to have taken on a bluish tinge. The dark, gaping maw of a cave was nestled amongst the trees and mountainside across from where Shiro had led the Key Dragons, and the entirety of the meadow was oddly serene—or, perhaps, serenely odd.

"It's beautiful," Corrin whispered.

Shiro nodded emphatically.

But Camilla turned to Xander to whisper, "It's unnatural."

He nodded. "Something isn't right."

"My Lady!" Shiro shouted, causing most everyone else to jump. It was the loudest sound they'd heard all morning. "I've brought guests!"

For a moment, nothing moved—not even the flowers. But then, a figure slowly detached itself from the gloom of the cave's mouth, gliding through the mist and flowers as though floating. As it drew closer, Corrin could make out a long, thin frame dressed in black Wyvern Lord armor and ermine, as well as curly blonde hair that looked oddly like…

" _No."_ Xander fell back, and Camilla rushed to buttress him, although she needn't have bothered. The Crown Prince of Nohr was the pillar of the family, after all. He would not fall.

The figure smiled as it grew closer, exposing pearly white teeth in a gesture that could easily be mistaken for a grimace. Sort of like…

"It can't be." Xander's voice held shock and horror, a first for Corrin's ears. _"Mother?"_

"Hello, Xander dear," said the Lady. "I do wish I could say it's good to see you; it's been far too long." She was suddenly among them, patting the Crown Prince's stone-etched cheek such a maternal way it made him startle. "You've grown into such a strong and handsome young man. And Camilla!" Queen Katerina turned to the elder princess, patting her cheek in much the same fashion. "Such a beauty! Far more than your mother ever was."

"Thank you," Camilla said automatically, though she added, "I think."

Laslow's eyes narrowed as he studied the once-Queen of Nohr. "What do you mean, you _wish_ you could say it's good to see him?"

Queen Katerina gazed at him with such kindness and sorrow, Laslow suddenly saw _exactly_ where Xander got it from. "None of you are leaving here."

And from every which way came invisible creatures edged in purple, drawing weapons and spellbooks and Dusk and Dawn Dragon knew what else.

"I would just like to announce," Takumi said as he drew the Fujin Yumi, "that this is all Corrin's fault!"


	32. Chapter 32

Camilla immediately put herself between Xander and his mother, drawing her axe in one smooth motion. The Key Dragons were shaking off their shock, getting into pairs and charging across the meadow toward these creatures they could barely see, and had come all this way to destroy.

All around them, the Uzai were everywhere and nowhere, popping into the visible plane one moment, and disappearing the next. Faint gleams of purple gave away their positioning—if one were lucky enough to catch such a thing—as did the crushed or oddly bent ghost flowers at their feet.

Xander willed his hand to move, to draw Siegfried, but the treacherous thing refused to listen. Queen Katerina drew an elegant axe from her side, falling naturally into an attack position. Völva, the sister axe to Garon's Bölverk, had not seen battle in almost two decades, but it gleamed in the pearlescent dawn as if it had been laid to rest only yesterday.

"And your wyvern?" Camilla asked, glancing about the meadow.

"Child," said the dead Queen reproachfully, "do not mistake me for a Malig Knight."

She drove forward with explosive speed, smashing Völva into Camilla's steel axe with enough force to push the younger woman back. Camilla gritted her teeth and dug her heels into the soft earth, refusing to give ground. Once upon a time, she had looked up to the elegant first Queen as the epitome of style, grace, and deadly fighting prowess—and, Camilla supposed, she still did—but that was nothing compared to what Xander must be feeling.

"Xander!" Camilla hissed. " _Move!"_

Her brother forcefully shook his head a few times, his curls flying every which way, and he finally managed to draw Siegfried properly. His entire being shook, but the black blade did not. The Crown Prince took several halting steps forward, coming to rest in a defensive position beside his half-sister.

"Dear children." Queen Katerina's voice held genuine remorse as she disengaged with Camilla's axe. The sudden lack of force nearly toppled the princess, who caught herself in the nick of time. "You should have stayed in Nohr."

Queen Katerina turned on heel, and disappeared without so much as a flourish, reappearing on the other side of the battlefield a moment later. Xander and Camilla exchanged a horrified look before they smashed into the fray, together.

Ryoma and Orochi had taken up position across the clearing from Queen Katerina. Lighting crackled from his katana every time he swung that legendary blade, and coupled with ox and snake of the diviner's magic, they made short work of every _Uzai_ they could sink their metaphorical claws into.

Beruka came alive in the melee, smashing her axe into everything within her deadly reach. And if an _Uzai_ pulled the axe from her hands, well, she wasted no time launching herself at him and squeezing the breath from his lungs or snapping his neck. The bodies she didn't strangle were riddled with arrows from a tense, one-eyed man keeping watch from the treetops.

Oboro and Hinata had taken up their usual job of keeping enemies off their Lord Takumi long enough for the archer to put an arrow through an _Uzai's_ eyes. The knot of dead bodies around the threesome steadily grew, not that there was any visible evidence beyond their seemingly random stumbles.

Odin and Selena shoved their way through the invisible assailants with considerably less tact than one might expect, even from the two of them. Arcs of lightning were going wide, smashing into trees and ghost flowers with little regard for flammability. Sword strokes were slashing through limbs and swatches of fabric, but few things fatal.

" _Owain,"_ Selena whispered, horrified.

 _"I know,"_ he whispered back. "But we're in this together."

Azama took calculated risks in darting between clashes to heal the injured and fatigued. The monk had never looked so serious, weaving between _Uzai_ and Key Dragon alike, festal held high and eyes yet to open. Setsuna provided cover fire, firmly planted in a rabbit warren beside a tree that had eaten her foot early on. She, too, had never seemed so focused, her arrows slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. Hinoka had never been more proud, keeping an eye on the two of them as she smashed into opponent after opponent, Akatsuki occasionally swooping up to blot out the sun.

The Yato sliced through the air in controlled, elegant arcs, often accompanied by shuriken thrown from the shadows. Corrin would occasionally augment her attacks with her dragon-blooded abilities—a claw here, a tooth there—and Kaze was behind her to clean up anything left standing.

Kagero and Saizo, however, were nowhere to be seen—but then, neither was Shiro. The beggar had apparently disappeared from the melee, and like good ninja, not only had Kagero and Saizo noticed, but followed. The resultant fight slid in and out of the shadows, invisible to everyone except themselves.

Peri and Laslow were in the thick of it all, slashing and stabbing with their usual fervor. She looked right as rain in a fight, as she always did, but he looked like he was rapidly becoming ill. Sweat gleamed on his brow where grey hair hadn't already stuck to it, and his movements were far more erratic and aggressive than was his usual.

They pushed forward through the melee until nothing remained before them but Queen Katerina herself. She looked frighteningly like Xander, Laslow thought, what with her face like stone and axe raised high. He rushed forward to meet her before Peri could get caught by the axe-woman. Better to have the cavalier avoid the axebreaker stance, if the could.

The first clash of sword-on-axe was jarringly like fighting Cervantes, all those years ago. Though the mustachioed general could hardly look less like Xander's mother, the Wyvern Lord, Laslow couldn't shake the feeling that this fight would end much the same way if allowed to linger. He gripped his sword all the more tightly and pressed forward, smashing into Queen Katerina (or whoever this was) with all the force in his dancer's body.

For some absurd reason, Azura's favorite song began to weave its way through Xander's mind as he slashed through _Uzai_ on the way to his mother:

 _You are the ocean's grey waves—destined to seek,_

 _life beyond the shore, just out of reach._

What did it _mean,_ his mother showing up here? Xander supposed to some degree, it didn't matter. She was an enemy and needed to be taken out, just like all the rest had been. It wasn't a pleasant thought, going up against his own mother in a duel, but for the good of Nohr, his siblings, his loyal retainers, and this mission, it had to be done.

Though he still wondered if she were a ghost, an undead, or something in-between.

 _Yet the waters ever change, flowing like time._

 _The path is yours to climb._

"LASLOW! PERI! FALL BACK!"

As ever, they did as ordered, concern in their eyes as they went. Queen Katerina whirled to meet her son, Völva raised high. The first clash of steel-on-steel set Xander's teeth on edge, but he pressed on. He knew he held the advantage in this fight—swords had a superior range to axes, after all, to say nothing of Siegfried itself being legendary and Völva simply being custom-forged—but he took no pride in it. There was no glory to be had in this duel, and if it lasted much longer, the tears that had been threatening to break through his iron grip for most of this encounter would finally free themselves.

It was as though his mother had never died. Her movements were as crisp and clean as Xander remembered. He had spent many an afternoon "studying" in the garden, watching his parents practice their martial skills in the pale Nohrian sun. It was one of the few times outside of court Xander ever saw them together.

He shook his head violently to clear it. _This does you no good._

 _Embrace the dark you call a home,_

 _Gaze upon an empty white throne._

A _legacy of lies,_

 _a familiar disguise._

A particularly well-executed strike sent his mother shooting backwards. A haphazard retreat, perhaps, or was it a trap? Xander wasn't certain, but before he could press forward, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned sharply, expecting Camilla (whose help he had shaken off only minutes ago), only to find Takumi looking at him with such understanding in his eyes that Xander was, for a moment, at a loss. Takumi was hardly a pillar of maturity and understanding—and beyond that, the Hoshidan royal family wasn't nearly so messy as the Nohrian. What was there for the younger prince to understand?

 _Sing with me a song of conquest and fate._

 _The black pillar cracks beneath its weight._

Then Xander heard the unmistakable crunch of broken bones behind him, and just as before, he whipped his head around toward the source of the noise.

He was just in time to see Hinoka yank her spear— _her_ _naginata,_ Xander reminded himself—out of Queen Katerina's ribcage, and Ryoma follow up his sister's attack with a perfectly-placed bolt of lightning from Raijinto. Xander couldn't help but wince as Völva fell from his mother's hand, and the queen shortly followed. The elder royals glanced back to their younger brother, wincing when they discovered Xander watching, wide-eyed.

"That wasn't necessary of you," Xander managed around the lump in his throat.

"It's okay, Xander." Hinoka patted his shoulder with a sad sort of smile. "The least we can do is make sure you don't have to kill your own mother."

A single tear finally rolled down Xander's cheek, and both Ryoma and Hinoka did him the courtesy of ignoring it. Instead, Ryoma turned to Takumi and said, almost disapprovingly, "You were supposed to distract him."

"I tried!" Takumi protested. "He's too observant."

 _Night breaks through the day—hard a stone._

 _Lost in thoughts all alone_

-)

Without Queen Katerina to fight, Laslow and Peri had been cast adrift, searching for more Uzai to root out or allies to assist. Just as both were beginning to suspect either was a useless endeavor, Peri caught sight of a flash of red amidst the luminescence of the ghost flowers. She glanced to Laslow to make sure he would follow, and then took off running.

The flash of red turned out to be Saizo, who was crumpled on the ground and turning a ghastly shade of white not unlike the flowers. "What happened?" Laslow demanded.

Saizo's good eye was bleary and unfocused as he pressed against a wound in his side. "Damn beggar," he rasped, hocking a globule of blood into the dirt.

Laslow's gaze immediately snapped up to scan for threats. He found various Key Dragons locked in combat with various, barely-visible _Uzai,_ but he saw nothing of the beggar-turned-ninja.

Peri was also looking around, albeit for a different reason. "Where's Kagero?"

"She's…" Saizo coughed up another blood bubble. "…still fighting him."

Peri's brow furrowed in an almost comic parallel of her Lord's. "Where?"

"Forest." Saizo gestured vaguely forward.

Laslow and Peri didn't need telling twice.

They took off running in the direction Saizo had indicated, Laslow keeping ever-alert for any sign of a threat, and Peri bouncing along and twirling her spear. This forest felt too familiar to Laslow; this conflict, too familiar. He half expected to turn and find his father fighting nearby, or Lucina whipping her Falchion through Risen after Risen.

They found Kagero faring little better than Saizo. Shiro had somehow gotten the drop on both of Ryoma's ninja, and although Kagero wasn't doubled over and coughing up blood, she was still dragging—her shuriken flying a hair's breadth off target, her arm guards not _quite_ catching the brunt of Shiro's attacks.

Peri slid between Kagero and Shiro first, the butt of her spear catching Shiro's latest feint and follow-up. With a sharp jab to shake him off, Peri then twisted the weapon around, and the spearhead shot forward with all the force in her body.

It only _just_ missed Shiro, who had disappeared into the shadows at the last moment. Peri harrumphed in frustration and brought her weapon back around to a defensive stance. Kagero nodded in thanks, her breathing heavy and uneven.

"Mind if we cut in?" Laslow said to her.

Kagero loosed a shaky laugh and tightened her grip on her shuriken. "By all means."

Shiro was in his element. The gloomy woods hid his movements perfectly, and without ghost flowers to bend beneath his feet, he was perfectly hidden amongst the darkness. Gone was the emaciated beggar from the bar, and in his place was a seasoned killer.

It had been a long time since Laslow had been genuinely afraid in a battle. Certainly, there were always moments of fear—close calls, friends' injuries, and the like—but never, in his entire time in Nohr, had Laslow been genuinely afraid of his opponent.

Not like that day at the Dragon's Table.

 _Robin was shouting that her friends were far more important to her than any fell blood she may carry, but the Plegian Mage hadn't listened. She had said she would kill him or die trying, and Validar had only laughed._

 _Grima's altar rose high behind him, like some nightmare straight from hell._

"Laslow?" Peri's voice snapped him sharply out of his memory.

The horseless cavalier had taken up her usual defensive stance at his side, spear poised to block or attack with equal ease. Laslow fell into his own defensive stance and tried to smile at his assailant. "Shall we dance?"

Shiro struck.

 _Validar's magic had been dark and powerful, like Henry and Tharja's. His narrow face had lit up in triumph whenever he landed a blow. Laslow remembered watching Gerome fall right off his wyvern, remembered the sickening crunch when he had hit the ground below. He remembered watching Lucina slash her way through Grimleal, more savage than her father yet more graceful, too. He remembered watching his father charge through opponents, magic crashing off his armor and undoubtedly hurting far more than the stoic knight would ever let on._

The shuriken slashed through Laslow's mercenary armor, echoing the wound he'd sustained against the Crescent Butchers. He hissed in pain, and shot forward. He pivoted behind the shuriken thrown his way, ducked under the arm guard and thrust forward with his beloved sword.

 _Kjelle took the brunt of the Grimleal's attacks, and Laurent had some nasty magic to throw back their way. The duo made an unlikely pair, but an honest one. Not unlike Owain and Severa had been._

 _Were._

 _Are?_

Laslow lost his grip on his sword when Shiro caught it between his arm guards and yanked. Laslow heard Peri's quiet gasp and the blade fell to the dirt, coming to rest too far away to be of any real use. The last thing he needed was to lose Peri, like he'd lost Frederick that day, and Gerome, and Yarne, and Chrom, and…

 _Robin._

Shiro's narrow face and shitty goatee were suddenly all too familiar. The air was both too hot and too cold all at once, like a fever. Sweat beaded on Laslow's brow as he stepped in front of Peri and brought his fists up to his chin, the way Kjelle had taught him.

What was he doing? He was a dancer's son and a bad one, at that. He had no business going toe-to-toe with anyone, let alone alone an armed aggressor. But what would Lucina have said, if he'd simply just called it quits in the middle of a fight?

 _Everything Frederick says about you will be true._

Something snapped in Laslow's chest, and he forgot Peri's fear, forgot Xander and his mother's ghost, forgot that he was supposed to be protecting Corrin, forgot that he was currently called Laslow. He forget everything except how to curl his fingers into a fist, and how to lodge that fist in another man's face.

"This is for Gerome!"

The narrow-faced figure staggered back, blood pouring from its now-broken nose.

"For Kjelle!"

A second fist followed the first, and Inigo felt blood pool around his bruised knuckles. A strangled cry came from the face behind said knuckles, but Inigo wasn't finished, and maybe never would be.

"For Yarne!"

He slammed his fist into his assailant's solar plexus, now. The Taguel had been so timid and so scared of everything. But he had been a terror in a fight, especially to protect those he cared about. The day they'd lost him had set the whole camp back for weeks, they'd been so strangled with grief.

"For Chrom!"

The Lord of Ylisse had been surprisingly down-to-earth, Inigo'd thought. He was kind and he was clumsy, and he struggled to live up to his sister Emmeryn's legacy as much as he doted on little Lissa. He'd tried to be the hero his countrymen needed, and wary old Frederick always said that his big heart would be the death of him.

Inigo supposed that were true, given that Chrom's lover had been the one to blast lightning into his side.

" _FOR ROBIN!"_

Inigo lost track of how many times he slammed fist after fist into anything that squished beneath his knuckles. Bones cracked and skin bruised; blood poured over his fists and wrists and Inigo wasn't even sure to whom it belonged.

It was Robin who had caused him so much heartache. It was Robin who had brought Grima back from whatever hell the dragon had slumbered in, and brought upon them all the end of the world. It was Robin whose soldiers killed his mother and father, and it was Robin who took up the mantle her damn father had laid out for her.

But it was also Robin who had been so kind to him in camp, who had found him outside the Great Gate and helped save his stupid hide when he'd metaphorically bitten off more than he could chew trying to impress that one village girl. Robin had been awfully fond of poking fun at his philandering ways (such as they were), but had never turned down tea when she knew what Inigo had really been looking for was a friend.

"Laslow…"

The grey-haired man appeared not hear, so engrossed was he in clobbering his opponent until the aching in his chest finally stopped.

"Laslow…!"

He would not be swayed by cool voices with kind words. He would not be stopped by anyone ever again. Not if it meant losing someone else he cared about it. Unbidden, images of a blonde-haired man with a legendary sword through his chest and blue-and-pink-haired cavalier impaled on her own spear flashed through his mind. Remnants of a nightmare from long, long ago—and yet not far enough.

 _"INIGO!"_

The grey-haired man froze in place, one fist still cocked back.

"Let him go." Peri wrapped her long, delicate fingers around her partner's bleeding, bruised ones. "He's already dead."

He blinked—once, twice, thrice—and slowly Validar's face melted away from the figure before him, and he began to just be able to make out Shiro's face, nearly smashed beyond recognition. With a sickening feeling pooling in his gut, the man between two worlds let him go, and Shiro's body slumped to the dirt floor.

It did not stir.

Something hot began pouring down the grey-haired man's face, and when he put a hand up to it, he was confused at first as to why it hadn't come away red. It took him another moment to realize they were tears, and suddenly the dancer-turned-mercenary didn't know what to do with himself.

He needn't have worried, though, because that was the exact moment Peri pulled him into a fierce hug. She didn't say anything when he broke in her arms, or when he pressed his forehead against hers and squeezed his eyes shut. She didn't say anything when he murmured prayers to a deity she'd never heard of, and apologies to people she'd never met. And she didn't say anything when he held her so tightly he almost cracked her ribs, either.

"How do you know what to call me?" the man asked softly at one point, his voice hoarse.

"You told me," Peri said, finally pulling away from him—although just enough to look him in those deeply sad, wintery-grey eyes. "In the forest, remember?"

Something unspoken passed between them—a memory, perhaps—and that was the exact moment that he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

She tasted of metal and blood—something not wholly unfamiliar to him, and yet he still found it jarring. He held onto her as though she were all that kept him anchored to the physical realm. He was surprised when she squeezed back just as tightly, pressing herself against him in every conceivable way their armor would allow.

When they broke apart a moment later, it suddenly struck him what he'd done.

"Shit, I'm sorry." His eyes widened, and his stomach dropped out from beneath him. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay." Peri smiled, and though it was fatigued and a little battle-crazy, it was there. "Really, it is."

He glanced over to the corpse behind them, to the ruined face that had so reminded him of Validar. "You aren't disgusted by me?"

She sidestepped the question. "Those names you said—were they your friends?"

He nodded vigorously, tears beginning to form again. He felt so incredibly hollow, and yet, so incredibly alive.

"I understand," Peri said, tucking herself into his chest again. "When I lost my mommy, I wanted to pummel something, too."

The grey-haired man snorted softly into her hair. "I'm sorry. I've gone and ruined our first kiss, haven't I?"

"I don't mind," Peri said. "Long as it's with you, Laslow."

 _Laslow._ That was his name. The one she called him, anyway. It would do.

-)

Without Queen Katerina to direct them, the _Uzai_ seemed aimless. They fell out of their formations and were easy prey to axe and spell. Before long, the entire clearing was silent once more, and the ghost flowers had stilled.

A broad-shouldered figure knelt before a blonde-haired woman taking her last, ragged breaths. "Xander, my son." She reached out one bloodied hand, and against his better judgement, the broad-shouldered man took it.

"I'm here, mother." The words barely made their way past his choked throat.

"Tell… your sister…" The blonde woman coughed up several blood bubbles that dribbled out of the side of her mouth. "No… _warn_ her… they're coming."

Xander squeezed her hand harder. "Who?"

"Anankos' men."

Xander physically recoiled. "Anankos? The dragon father worships?"

There was no response.

"Mother?"

More silence.

A hoarse voice cut broke in, "She's gone, Xander."

Xander chanced a glance sideways, and found not Corrin, and not Camilla, not even Laslow or Peri, but Hinoka folding herself into _seiza_ beside him.

"Let her go," Hinoka added, just as softly.

The Crown Prince of Nohr shut his eyes, breathed in deeply, and then set his mother's cooling hand on her abdomen, just below where the Hoshidan woman sitting beside him had run her through with her _naginata._

Behind them, specks of ruby-red blood gleamed on pearly white ghost flowers in the early morning light.

 **-)**

 **On account of the extra wait, I made this chapter extra long. Hopefully things will get easier in the new year, and you'll all be hearing from me a lot more.**

 **And as always, thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review. It always means a lot to me to hear your thoughts.**

 **Anonymous: Glad to help you through finals week :) and it wasn't a month this time, I'm happy to report**

 **good job: oh trust me, the fact that Corrin's naiveté isn't really ever punished bothers the shit out of me, in-game.**

 **Guest: One can only hope.**


	33. Chapter 33

"How are you doing?" Camilla asked Xander that night in the tavern.

"I _do_ wish everyone would stop asking me that," he shot back irritably. "I've already had to fend off Odin, Niles, and my own retainers."

"Well, pardon me for caring!" Camilla took up a seat beside him at the table, stealing a sip form his tankard as she did so.

Xander sighed, running an exasperated hand through his unnaturally brown hair. "I know, I know. I just… don't really want to hear it."

"Well, what _do_ you want to hear?" Camilla asked, absentmindedly running her fingers along the handle of the tankard. "I'm sure Odin has something."

Xander snorted, and scooted his drink further from Camilla's reach.

She waited for him to say something, and when he didn't, continued: "Well, the villagers seem to like us a bit more."

"Most people do," Xander began curtly, and over the rim of his tankard, "once you've eliminated the ghosts haunting their city."

Camilla sighed. "You _do_ realize everyone keeps asking after you because you're clearly not fine, yes?"

Xander's gaze was fixed on a point somewhere behind Camilla's head. "I didn't say I don't appreciate the concern; it's simply unnecessary. I am the pillar of this family. I will not crack."

"Xander, darling." Camilla placed her long, elegant fingers over her brother's rough and calloused ones, and gave his hand a small squeeze. "Quit being so bullheaded."

"Said the pot to the kettle." Xander finally looked to her, and squeezed his sister's hand back.

"Ugh, you're incorrigible," Camilla said with exasperated fondness. "Corrin, darling, could you kindly talk some sense into our brother?"

Xander's whole body stiffened as Corrin took up a seat across from her older siblings. "What's he done now?" she asked warily, having been chewed out already by both Xander and Kaze for being so naïve about the beggar (despite the fact that it was because of her that they found the Uzai in the first place, thank you very much).

Camilla shot her little sister a look, and Corrin immediately ducked her head in red-faced embarrassment. Xander found this not nearly so endearing as he typically did. "I'm sorry," Corrin said, mostly to the table. "Xander, I know things are…" She searched for a word. "… _tense_ between us right now, but you're still my brother. I care about you a lot, and I can read you better than anyone." She chanced a glance up, and when she found she wasn't pinned down by both her older siblings' glares, she straightened her back a bit. "I know you're hurting."

Again, Xander said nothing, only buried his long nose in his tankard.

Much like Camilla had, Corrin tried again: "We don't need you to be some indomitable scion of Nohrian masculinity _all_ the time, Xander."

"Maybe not." A wry smile twisted across his face. "But Nohr does."

Corrin gave him a very hard look—coming from her, anyway. "And we're not _in_ Nohr."

Xander thumped his hand on the table, making both of his sisters jump. "What is it the both of you want me to _do_ , exactly—weep and bemoan my fate? I can assure you, I've done enough of both today; I needn't burden the rest of you with it."

"When did you do that?" Corrin asked at the same time Camilla chastised, "One tear shed on the battlefield does _not_ an emotionally healthy man make!"

The sisters looked at each other for a moment before Corrin deferred to Camilla's judgement. "You're not a burden, Xander," said Camilla softly, "and you never will be."

Corrin turned those ruby eyes up at him. "Won't you talk to us?"

Xander loosed a long breath, and just studied the two women for a moment. He was cornered, nice and proper— _A masterstroke, Camilla, truly._ Mercifully—or perhaps, not so much, depending on one's perspective—he was saved from answering by the arrival of Hinoka and Ryoma.

Despite her annoyance, Camilla greeted them as charmingly as ever. Corrin mumbled her hellos with her eyes locked on the table again, and Xander sat as stiff-backed as he would on his horse. By all accounts, nothing looked a hair out of place.

"What brings you over here?" Camilla asked after all the pleasantries were out of the way.

Ryoma and Hinoka exchanged a look that said much without a word. Camilla knew it well; Leo and Elise's scheming was often born under such a look exchanged between siblings.

"Just making the rounds," Ryoma said, easily enough.

"That's good of you," Corrin said. "Xander does the same thing for us, after a battle."

"Do you ever ask him how he is?" Ryoma asked.

Xander was suddenly on his feet, empty tankard in hand. "I am not a child who needs looking after."

"No," agreed Hinoka, "just a very sad man."

Ryoma glanced curiously at her. Ordinarily, Sakura was his sensitive younger sister. Hinoka was more of a mind to fight her way through problems, like Takumi. The Shrine Maiden might not have come with them to fight the _Uzai,_ but it was unlikely Hinoka had simply taken up the mantle. _She has a motive._

Some of Xander's ire deflated—"No arguments there, I suppose."—as he slipped between bodies and headed toward the bar.

Stunned, Hinoka turned on Camilla and Corrin. "Are you just going to let him get away like that?"

Corrin sighed. "There's nothing we can do, Hinoka."

"If he doesn't want to talk, we're hardly going to be able to pry it out of him," Camilla added. "Trust me, I've tried."

"Nohrians _are_ famously close-lipped," Ryoma said, mostly to Hinoka.

"This is ridiculous," Hinoka said, throwing her gauntlets onto the table. "Ryoma, watch my shit."

Ryoma's grey eyes widened—"Hinoka, no!"—and he reached out to grab her arm, shoulder, _anything_. He missed by a finger's breadth, and his redheaded sister was lost amongst the crowd.

Camilla picked up one of the pegasus knight's arm guards to examine it more closely. "Should we be concerned?"

Ryoma heaved a sigh as he took up Xander's empty chair and Hinoka's abandoned tankard. "I'm not entirely sure."

At the bar, Xander was having a hell of a time trying to flag down the bartender. The man simply wasn't glancing in his direction. Xander almost would have chalked it up to racism, had his hair still been blond and obviously Nohrian.

"Just _what_ do you think you're doing?"

Xander glanced over to where Hinoka was now standing, waving to the bartender and not looking at him. He almost would have figured she wasn't talking to him, but the annoyance in her voice was too direct, too genuine, too… well, much like Camilla's, really.

"Haven't the foggiest what you mean," Xander said coolly.

"Don't give me that." Hinoka held up two fingers to the bartender, still not looking at Xander. "I know you're not a wyvern."

It took Xander a moment to realize she was referring to their conversation in the stables, not so long ago. By the time he could think of a retort, Hinoka was already pressing a tankard into his hands and physically pushing him toward the door.

"Hinoka, stop!" Xander tried to twist away from her and failed miserably.

"You are going to talk with me and that is all there is to it!"

A townsman sitting at one of the nearby tables glanced to Xander with a sympathetic smile. "Wives, eh?"

There was not a power on the whole continent to stop Xander from blushing, but Hinoka just stuck her tongue out at the man without missing a beat. "That isn't…" Xander stammered. "I mean, she's just…"

"Shut it, you." Hinoka continued to drive him forward, but instead of pushing, she had now slipped her arm through his and was pulling.

Xander found it difficult to balance the ale in his tankard with Hinoka's blistering pace, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered when the women in his life had become so damn demanding.

"Are you intoxicated?" he asked as Hinoka pushed open the door to the outside with her elbow, somehow managing not to slosh ale all down her front in the process.

"Maybe a little," she admitted.

They were now outside, in the inn's little courtyard. It was a Hoshidan thing, Ryoma had told Xander earlier in the campaign (such as it was). Courtyards were always full of flowers and short benches where a person could sit and be one with nature. (Which sounded rather pretentious to Xander, but it wasn't his culture, after all.)

Hinoka set her tankard down carefully on one of the benches before setting her hands on her hips and squaring up to face Xander. She nearly reached his chin, and Xander found himself stepping back and wrapping his hands around his pewter tankard just to give them something to do besides push her away. Blustering soldier or not, she was still a Lady. Xander could hardly lay a hand on her and forgive himself.

"I see where Corrin gets it from," he said, almost without thinking.

Hinoka huffed a laugh. "Don't change the subject."

"You're intoxicated, Hinoka," Xander said rather gently, all things considered. "This really isn't necess—"

"Bull _shit,"_ she interrupted. "I watched you dodge all those questions Camilla was asking. And I know you only talk to her, if to anyone."

Some of Xander's annoyance returned, but he tried to keep his voice level. He succeeded only somewhat. "And _why_ does everyone think that I'll fall to pieces if I don't complain about fighting my mother?"

Hinoka's deeply brown eyes narrowed, and Xander felt—inexplicably—ashamed. "You don't fool me, Xander Garonsson."

"Katerinasson," he corrected automatically, and then winced at the triumphant look on her round face.

Then she softened, just a little. "Look, I'm not your little sisters, and I'm not your little brother. I'm not even Nohrian. You don't have to keep up some façade just because you think it's the right thing to do. If you want to talk, then talk. If you don't, then don't. But don't lie to yourself—and don't lie to me."

Hinoka squared herself up again, forcing Xander to look her in the eyes with one calloused hand set to his face. Xander recoiled at the casual touch, but Hinoka didn't seem to think anything of it. _Maybe Hoshidans are more touchy?_ That was certainly true of Takumi.

"Are you upset," Hinoka said, giving his head a little shake, "because of what happened?"

Xander was torn between looking away and telling the truth, but like a good general, he opted for a different, cleverer route. "Why did you kneel with me, earlier? She wasn't your queen."

For the first time in the entire evening, Hinoka appeared taken aback—although at what, Xander didn't know. Was she not expecting him to dodge, to evade?

"It wasn't for her," Hinoka finally said, much more softly than usual. "It was for you."

Now it was Xander's turn to be taken aback. "For… me?"

"The dead are gone," she said, abruptly. "But _we_ are still here. So I don't care if you want to talk to me or not. I _know_ you hurt because you're…" She poked him in the chest. "…Still…" Again. _"…here."_ A third time, and then the jabbing digit fell away.

Xander said nothing for a long moment, only stared at this Hoshidan Princess who until a month ago had been his enemy. Hinoka shifted under the scrutiny, and added, somewhat lamely, "And leaving hurts."

"Leaving… does hurt," Xander agreed, sounding far away. "Whether done by you, or someone else."

Hinoka's smile was sad, and understanding, and Xander couldn't take any of it. He tried to back away from her, but found he could not move. He'd leaned against the wall, as was his wont ever since childhood, and now the Hoshidan had him trapped.

 _Well, if you can't evade, best to attack directly._ "Whom did you lose?"

The obvious answer stood in the next room over, with pointy ears and red eyes and gentle laughter. The next most obvious answers were buried in the ancestral grounds near Castle Shirasagi, one with his beloved horned helmet and twin swords, and the other in a freshly dug grave that grass had scarcely the time to grow over before this mess with the _Uzai_ began. In a way, the man before her was to blame for all of her losses and sorrows—or at least, his family was—but Hinoka knew that his grief deserved none of those answers.

" _My_ mother," she said instead, "the queen Ikona."

"I…" Xander seemed to be at a loss.

Hinoka ignored it. "Not that I remember much of her. I only remember that Mikoto—Corrin's mother— _wasn't_ her. And I told her so." Hinoka winced at some far-off memory. "I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for that one."

"No wonder you don't seem to get along with Takumi," slipped out of Xander's mouth before he could stop it. It was this damnable ale; it had to be. He glanced about for somewhere to set his drink down, but found nothing in arm's reach.

Hinoka snorted so loudly that Xander was snapped from his search. "Oh, Takumi told Mikoto more often than I did—mine was just the once."

"Is…" Xander blinked. "…is Corrin not the middle child?"

"No, she is." Hinoka seemed to recognize Xander's confusion. "My siblings and I all share the same mother, Xander. It's only Corrin who doesn't."

She could practically see the gears turning in Xander's mind, the clockwork trying to fit together to make sense of this new information. She eventually took pity on the man. He was only human, after all.

"It means my father went behind my mother's back," Hinoka said. _Funny, no matter how old I get, it never gets any easier to admit._ "I'm pretty sure my mother later died of grief—and impotent rage, of course."

Xander's grip tightened on his tankard, his knuckles turning white. "Another thing we have in common, then."

To his surprise, Hinoka smiled—genuinely smiled. Her cheeks were flushed from drink (the reason she was being so honest, Xander realized), and those brown eyes, so often alight with mischief or love of battle, were clearer than Xander had perhaps ever seen them.

 _She's rather prepossessing,_ Xander realized with a jolt. _I wonder why I've never noticed?_

Hinoka held up her tankard to eye level, and Xander found himself following her lead. "To difficult fathers and dead mothers," she said, and Xander almost snorted at the sacrilege. "May we end up better than either of them."

They clanked glasses, and Xander felt the vice around his heart unconstrict, just a little.

-)

"…And that's when— _hic—_ I told her, you just have to smile a little! It's not hard; you just raise your cheeks like… this!" Laslow pushed up on his own lips, to demonstrate.

Odin and Selena were howling with laughter, falling all over each other, and Peri was giggling so hard, she was holding her stomach. Their table was littered with empty tankards and the remains of a meal.

"I can hear Lucina now," Selena said, wiping the tears out of her eyes and pushing herself off of Odin. "'Ret go uh mah FAFE!'"

Odin thumped his head against the wooden table and continued cackling. "My poor cousin!"

Peri gasped, the sound rather undermined by the giant hiccup in the middle. "Lucina is your _cousin?"_ She couldn't believe it. "But seems so… soooo… _Princess-y!"_

Odin raised his head up off the table, and had to squint a little to see Peri clearly. "Can you not see the noble resemblance in my… noble bearing?"

Selena rolled her eyes just as Xander and Hinoka came back through the main door. She was laughing at something he must have said, and Xander seemed more relaxed than Laslow had seen him in the a good long while. The tension was still there, of course—Hinoka wasn't Corrin—but it seemed rather like Xander had made a friend.

"Ooo," Peri nearly squealed, "there's Lord Xander! Lazzy, we should try to make sure he's okay again."

"Right you are, Peri my dear!" Laslow took one last swing from his tankard and began to get to his feet. "Come on, then."

Peri nearly tripped over her chair in the effort to stand, and Laslow caught her almost without a second thought. "You alright?" He suddenly felt breathless, their foreheads nearly touching.

Peri giggled somewhat nervously in response.

Selena made a loud gagging noise from somewhere to their left, jabbing her finger toward her mouth as if to make herself actually vomit. Laslow chuckled and set Peri on her feet, and they both set out to catch their Lord before his sisters stole all of his attention.

"Come on, Selena," Odin said, getting to his feet, as well. "I have a stupendous idea!"

"I don't usually like your ideas," she grumbled, though she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"…And then I realized there were rat traps in the pantry, and I shouted, 'Setsuna! I'm coming!'" Hinoka was saying.

Xander was laughing and trying to catch sight of Hinoka's poor, airheaded retainer amidst the crowd. "And did the traps win that battle?"

"Almost," Hinoka admitted with a laugh, just as Laslow and Peri appeared out of the mess of people. The bar seemed to have grown even more crowded in their short absence, and Xander was beginning to wonder if the whole damn town had shown up.

"Lord Xander!" Peri squealed, bringing the Crown Prince into a fierce hug. "Lord Xander, are you okay?"

"Peri, let him breathe," Laslow said, trying to pry her arms off Xander's midriff.

"I'm fire, Peri," Xander said, awkwardly patting her head and then shoulder in an attempt to make her let go. Hinoka was watching the display while trying to hide her very amused grin behind her tankard. "Truly, now."

Peri let go of her liege lord to look him in the eye with her hands on her hips. (Without her customary heels, she scarcely came up to his chest, but Xander appreciated the intent.) "Losing your mommy is hard," she said. "And it's my job to make sure you're okay."

The surge of affection Xander often felt for his retainers swelled to the size of the ocean's grey waves. "I appreciate your concern Peri, but I promise you, I am fine." He glanced over to Hinoka, unsure of what to say.

"I got him to talk," Hinoka said with an over exaggerated wink.

Laslow nearly choked. "Milord!"

Xander's face flushed completely crimson. "Laslow! I've far more honor than that!" He clapped a melodramatic hand to his chest in a teasing mirror of his retainer, and his hand thumped against the golden chain still coiled in his pocket.

Hinoka's eyes widened and she gave a righteous snort. "Your lord may be handsome, Laslow, but come on now, _outside an inn?_ Do you mistake me for a courtesan?"

"I don't," Laslow spluttered, "I mean, I didn't…!" Hinoka began laughing again, and Laslow cut himself off, confused.

"Don't be so stiff!" Hinoka said, clapping a hand to his shoulder. She glanced to Peri. "Are all Nohrian men like this?"

"Pretty much," Peri confirmed.

"Ugh," Hinoka said, "I'm so sorry."

"Hey!" Laslow exclaimed. "Your brothers are at _least_ as stiff as I am! Not Lord Xander, of course, but at _least_ me."

"My brothers are royalty," Hinoka said as Xander only grew redder (a feat she previously hadn't thought possible). " _Of course_ they're stern and dignified! Externally, anyway."

"I was about to say," Laslow said, "Takumi? Really?"

"Takumi's still a kid," Hinoka said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He'll learn." She glanced over to Xander, only to find him red-faced and desperately trying not to laugh.

"It's okay, friend." Hinoka clapped him so hard on the back, Xander exhaled in surprise. "You're allowed to laugh."

"It isn't dignified!" Xander protested.

"Lord Xander, your face is all red!" Peri said. "Like that time you had to help Lady Corrin change!"

Hinoka spat out the last sip of ale she'd just taken. "That time that you _what?"_

"You need help to lace your corset; they don't lace up the front," Peri said, in a 'duh' tone of voice that Xander would ordinarily have chastised her for, if he weren't so busy being embarrassed. "Lord Xander had gone to visit the Northern Fortress, but Lady Corrin's maids were busy before dinner."

"They were much younger, then," Laslow added. "Lady Corrin had scarcely begun even _needing_ a corset."

"I see." Hinoka glanced back to Xander, and a laugh escaped her at the poor man's predicament. "Xander, you're _so_ red. Who knew the Crown Prince could get embarrassed?"

"Augh!" Xander threw his head back in mock despair. "Am I losing my reputation as a wyvern?"

"Stoneborn, milord," Laslow deadpanned.

"Ah, Stoneborn," said Xander as Peri continued to cackle, "how silly of me to forget."

At that moment, the familiar strains of a Nohrian quickstep reached the four. Laslow turned just in time to see Odin pulling a faintly protesting Selena into the portion of the room currently serving a dance floor. They stood close together—but not touching—as they began the familiar stutter-step dance.

"Come on, Peri my dear." Laslow slipped an arm around Peri's waist. "This'll be fun!"

The two also took up position on the dance floor, moving in sinuous harmony as the song began to pick up speed. Odin gave him a thumbs up the first time the two couples passed each other, and Laslow blushed hard enough to rival Xander.

All around them, couples were forming and joining out on the floor—Niles pulling a confused Beruka; Camilla dragging a visibly uncomfortable Ryoma; Kaze dancing with his should-be-sister-in-law, Kagero. Despite his better judgement, Xander cast a glance toward Corrin. He knew damn well he shouldn't ask her to dance, but he probably would have anyway, if he hadn't caught sight of her holding a hand out to Takumi. The white-haired archer scowled at her, but took it nonetheless.

He felt gutted.

"Hey, Xander?" Hinoka said, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the floor. "Will you teach me this dance?"

"I, er." He coughed. "I suppose I could."

Hinoka laughed as she brought him to the edge of the dance floor. "What's first?"

Xander set a careful hand on her slender waist, and held the other one out for her to clasp. "Stand with me, like this."

Hinoka set one hand on his shoulder, and the other hand intertwined with his outstretched one. The movement brought her close enough to feel the warmth of his breath ghost across her face. "Okay, now what?"

"Follow my lead," Xander said, as he began narrating the steps to her, in time with the music. Hinoka decided he had a rather pleasant voice, deep but not unintelligible, clear but not boyish.

Across the dance floor, Camilla was watching her elder brother with an appraising eye. "I daresay, Ryoma," Camilla said, turning back to face her partner. "I wonder what she said to him?"

"So do I," said the High Prince of Hoshido.

They moved in silence for a moment, absorbed in the music and the movement. Ryoma tried to focus on his relief that Takumi was at least willing to meet Corrin halfway, rather than on his dread at watching Hinoka acting so familiar with Xander.

"You know what's funny?" Camilla piped up, her smooth voice nearly lost amidst the music and the chatter around them. "In another life, this could have _been_ our life."

Ryoma blinked, certainly he'd missed something. "I'm not certain I follow?"

"Well, maybe not this exactly," Camilla expanded, "but _this_. Dancing with the other nation's royalty. Drinking together. Not wanting to murder each other on the spot. Hell, you and I might have been married to secure an alliance or something, by now."

There was a long silence, and then Ryoma muttered, "How strange."

"I hardly even know you," Camilla added.

Ryoma's first thought was to say that the feeling was mutual, but some unknown force swept over him, and instead he said, "Tell me something of your childhood, then. Something happy!" He hastened to add.

Camilla laughed, and didn't even need to stop for thought. "I'm certain you know my father kept Corrin in the Northern Fortress?" At Ryoma's nod, she continued, "Well, my siblings and I would go visit her every chance we got. And often we'd help her out with her lessons.

"And Corrin _loves_ to dance—almost as much as she loved learning swordplay. She would ask me to help her, or Elise, or Leo, but by far, her favorite partner was always Xander."

Ryoma snorted. "I can only imagine why."

"The handsome prince?" Camilla grinned. "Perish the thought." She paused for a moment, studying her older brother dancing with the Hoshidan Princess with the faint traces of a smile on his lips (as close as he often got to a real smile, outside of the family). "You know, in another life, _that_ could have been your life, as well. The handsome, princely older brother with which to learn to dance." A shadow passed across Camilla's face as Ryoma spun her out and back in, in time with the music. "And I might have had four other siblings upon which to dote instead of attempt murder."

"Camilla Garonsdottír," Ryoma began sternly, "you are a lovely woman, a caring older sister, and an accomplished solider. There's no need to sully yourself with darkness."

Camilla's gaze grew appraising, and Ryoma was grateful that the rather complicated dance could distract him from it.

"I'm already sullied with darkness," she finally said. "But that's kind of you to say."

Across the dance floor, Selena, as ever, had turned something simple into a competition. She and Odin weren't holding onto each other, but somehow stood closer than any of the rest of the couples, moving and twisting in time with the rhythm. Laslow may have been the lady-killer, but Selena liked to tease, too—especially Odin. _It's just too easy!_ So her hips held an exaggerated swing whenever she moved, brushing up against Odin's belt and just generally being a nuisance.

A faint sheen of sweat had broken out across Odin's forehead. "Selena, nothing escapes the knowledge of Odin Dark."

Selena batted her eyelashes in the obnoxious manner that had always worked on her father (for a while, anyway). "I haven't any idea what you mean?"

"I know what you're doing!"

"You mean dancing with the asshole who pulled me out onto the floor?" Selena punctuated the sentence with yet another two-step that brought her hips towards him and then back away.

Odin appeared crestfallen, whatever he was going to say dying on his lips.

Selena was reminded of the time that, all those years ago, she'd simply snapped on him, and found him desolate in his tent later on. It had been the worst, most awful feeling she'd ever experienced since time-hopping, and she was getting shades of it again, here on this dance floor. She hated it; hated seeing him so absolutely decimated; hated herself for once again being the reason why.

Her mother would be ashamed of her.

"Oh, don't listen to me," Selena said, trying and failing to reach the levity she was aiming for. "Everyone knows I'm a bitch."

"Stop that," Odin said, immediately and with force.

Selena blinked, teasing lilt to her steps forgotten. "Beg pardon?"

"Stop shitting on yourself," Odin elaborated, his grey eyes suddenly searing into her with such heat, Selena had to look away. "You have friends who care about you and parents who love you—even with that razor-sharp tongue of yours." He swallowed audibly. "So just… _stop_ , okay?"

Selena actually stopped dancing to set her hands on her hips. "Make me."

Odin's grey eyes widened as his stomach jolted in surprise, and he did the only thing that made any sense to his intoxicated brain:

He kissed her.

He was greeted with her sharp intake of breath, and then— _Naga's breath!_ —her lips moved to meet his. It didn't matter that they were in the middle of a crowded inn and on the dance floor. It didn't matter than Inigo was _undoubtedly_ going to give them both shit for this tomorrow. It didn't even matter that Camilla was definitely watching and going to file this little tidbit away like the spymaster she was. His hand was fitted perfectly for the curve of her jaw, and Odin was damn well going to kiss Severa for as long as she let him.

Selena was the one to break them apart, but she still was staring at him, dark eyes alight and full of confusion. "Owain? What are you doing…?"

"Honestly? What I should have done years ago. I just…" He sighed, and pushed his free hand through his hair. "The great Odin Dark could never figure out what to say."

She was suddenly starved for his touch, his scent, his laughter, his endearingly annoying way of talking, his _everything._ Something she'd been pushing down for ages now was bubbling up from somewhere deep, and there was no lid in the world to keep it sealed.

She ought to tease him. Ought to tell him he was a horrible kisser, or that he'd stepped on her toes, or that she was angry with him for overstepping his bounds. But he wasn't, and he hadn't, and _she_ wasn't.

She was standing on the precipice of something, but was too drunk to stop herself from falling.

"Come on." Selena tugged on his arm. "Let's get out of here."

Odin followed her out of the main room and up the stairs like a struck fool, but he just couldn't find it in him to care.

-)

 **Hey y'all—I know this one took a hot second, so I made sure it was worth your while ;p**


	34. Chapter 34

Morning dawned quietly in Ranwara, even more so than usual, given the town's collective hangover. Ryoma wasn't surprised that he was the first to stir in his shared bedroom; Saizo was often awake late into the night even on a normal evening. He quietly stepped over Azama's sleeping form and drew his _haori_ around his broad shoulders before heading downstairs to see about breakfast.

The inn was empty—an almost eerie parallel to last night, where the walls had practically been buckling out. Ryoma was careful not to make much noise as he made his way between the empty tables strewn across the room. Not for any particular reason, but simply out of habit.

The innkeeper looked about as salty as the porridge he was serving, Ryoma quickly discovered. The samurai diligently choked down a few bites until his stomach threatened to mutiny, whereupon he switched to tea (which was, mercifully, palatable).

He heard, more so than saw, his younger sister's approach: solid footsteps without a care as to whom they alerted. "Mornin', Ryoma."

"Good morning, Hinoka," he returned as she grabbed the seat beside him at the bar.

She glanced to his half-eaten breakfast. "How's the porridge?"

Ryoma sipped on his tea. "Don't."

Hinoka nodded, and ordered tea from the bartender, as well.

She let out a soft sigh as the fragrant steam wafted upwards, and took a long, contented draw. The siblings sipped their tea in silence for a moment, but purpose was coiling in Ryoma's gut. He knew what he needed to say, and he knew that it needed to be said, but that never made it any less uncomfortable.

"Hinoka." Ryoma set down his teacup. "Sister…" He stopped.

Hinoka grinned over the rim of her teacup. "Yes?"

Ryoma made a face. "Don't do that."

"Well I _am_ your sister." Hinoka jabbed her nails into Ryoma's side, and the grunt he let off was legendary. Ryoma finally turned to look at her, and the mirth fell away from Hinoka's face. "Ryoma, is everything alright?"

"That depends on you." Ryoma rolled his shoulders a few times, as if gearing up for battle.

Hinoka cocked an eyebrow. "On me?"

Ryoma nodded. "I've never been one to order you, Takumi, and Sakura about, or tell you who you can and can't spend your time with. Not only is that not my place, but I know a losing fight when I see one. But I _really_ have to put my foot down this time."

Hinoka opened her mouth to say something, but Ryoma wasn't finished. "Once this truce is over, Xander Garonsson will be our _enemy_ again, Hinoka. Have you forgotten about what he did to his own father's retainer in Yokotoro? The Massacre at Sougawa? And the fact that he may very well have had a hand in stepmother's murder?"

 _"_ _Yes,_ Ryoma," Hinoka interrupted hotly. "I'm just going to _throw myself_ at Xander Garonsson, because _that's not going to end badly!_ What do you think I am, a sex-drunk courtesan who just thinks 'you'll do' and rolls into bed?!"

Scarlet bloomed across Ryoma's pale face. "Hinoka… _Hinoka_ I wasn't…"

"He was doing the same thing _you_ do to avoid facing himself! I won't let you do it, so I…" She grew quiet, losing steam. "…so I guess I won't let anyone else, either. Call it a habit."

They sat there in silence for a moment, the High Prince of Hoshido and his younger sister, the Pegasus Knight.

"Besides, you spent at _least_ as much time with Camilla last night as I did with Xander," Hinoka finally said. "Should I be worried that the future Queen of Hoshido will come riding into the capital on a half-dead dragon?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Ryoma said sharply. "I merely—"

"Was doing the same thing I was," Hinoka cut in.

Ryoma sat back, lips pursed in thought. Hinoka watched him through eyes narrowed to dagger-like points. Ryoma was digging his metaphorical heels in, and Hinoka knew it would be a cold day in hell before he'd be the one to crack first.

So she did. Sort of.

"Besides—you think Camilla is pretty, don't you?"

Ryoma gave a startled laugh. "Camilla is _very_ pretty."

"Well, so is Xander." Hinoka sat back, smug in her victory.

"What are you two arguing about?" inquired a voice with harsh edges to its syllables.

Hinoka jumped in her seat, but Ryoma remained perfectly composed. "Good morning, Xander," he said in perfect Nohrian.

Xander, however, was looking at Hinoka. "Did I startle you?"

"Yes!" It was rare for Hinoka to admit to that, but it was easier than the alternative.

Xander turned a delicate shade of pink. "My apologies," he mumbled. He deftly covered it by gesturing to Ryoma's forsaken breakfast and asking, "Is that disgusting?"

Ryoma nodded fervently over the rim of his teacup.

"Dammit," Xander muttered just as the innkeeper came back.

"Yes, Nohrian?" the man grunted.

Ryoma froze and Hinoka's hand flew to where her naginata normally nestled, but Xander merely cocked an eyebrow at him. "That obvious, eh?"

"Accent." The bartender made a popping sound against the back of his teeth.

Xander's facial expression grew a touch more guarded. "Well, if the cat's out of the bag—you do serve coffee here, don't you?"

"Not often."

"Capital," Xander said. "I'll take three cups, please." He held up the requisite number of fingers—thumb, index, and middle.

Hinoka glanced at the gesture with open curiosity as the barkeep bustled off, muttering to himself. Before she could think of a thing to say, Xander said, "I'm surprised you're awake so early, Hinoka."

Ryoma nearly choked on his tea, but Hinoka said, "Why?"

"You out-drank me!"

Ryoma relaxed slightly, but Hinoka just laughed. "I had to brush down Akatsuki this morning."

"Ah," said Xander. "Forgive me; I should have known."

Ryoma curiously studied the Nohrian prince as the barkeep returned with three mugs of coffee. Xander laid a few coins on the shined wood and carefully wrapped his long fingers around each mug handle.

"Do you want some help?" Ryoma asked.

Xander shook his head negative—"I can carry five of these on a good day."—and disappeared back the way he came.

Hinoka and Ryoma watched him go, tracing his footsteps over to where Laslow and Peri were seated. The grey-haired mercenary looked to be in the middle of a story of some sort, whereas the bubbly cavalier looked enthralled and giggled in all the right places. Xander set down the three cups of coffee, and his retainers looked instantly grateful.

"He takes good care of them," Hinoka observed, switching back to Hoshidan.

"It's a good sign," Ryoma agreed cautiously. "Perhaps not all of Nohr takes after King Garon."

"I think Xander takes after his mother."

Ryoma studied his sister a moment, but she appeared not to notice him, still wrapped up in watching the Crown Prince interact with those supposedly lower than his station. "And how would you know that?" Ryoma finally asked.

"He told me about her, last night," Hinoka said. "It's a lot of what he talked about, actually. How kind she was, how good a warrior, how her wyvern is Camilla's wyvern's dam… things like that." She shrugged, offering no further explanation.

"Hmm." Ryoma was mildly dismayed to discovered he'd reached the end of his tea. "I suppose I'd rather him take after… well, _anyone_ other than King Garon."

"That's what I thought at first, too," Hinoka began, "but I think Queen Katerina was genuinely _decent."_

"Huh," Ryoma said. "That's…"

He trailed off.

"Strange," Hinoka said quietly. "You were about to say strange, weren't you?"

Ryoma sighed. "Yes, but I realize, I shouldn't. It's madness to think an entire country depraved based on the actions of one man with a lot of power."

"Why?" said Hinoka with uncharacteristic bitterness. "We've done it our whole lives."

"Hinoka!"

The princess got to her feet, leaving her tea cooling on the bar. "I'm going out to brush Akatsuki."

Ryoma let her have that one, and didn't point out that she'd already done so this morning.

-)

"…So, milord, what's the plan now?" Laslow asked as he, Xander, and Peri clustered around their coffee mugs.

"The Hoshidans will escort us as far as the bottomless canyon," Xander said. "After that, we'll get out of sight and hop back into the Astral Plane, nothing doing."

Peri nodded sagely, as if this all made perfect sense, but Laslow blinked a few times like he'd been caught in sudden, bright light. "And that's it, then?" Laslow asked.

"Well, that is to say…" Xander glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to be overheard. "…there are a _few_ more steps to getting back into the Astral Plane, but I daresay, you know those, Laslow."

"No, milord, I meant…" Laslow sighed. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter."

"Of course it does," Xander said. "What's on your mind?"

"I suppose I just… don't want to go back to being their enemy." Laslow sighed, jerking his head toward where Ryoma and Hinoka sat. "I've lost enough friends already."

Peri's face softened, and she drew Laslow into an immediate (and deadly-looking) hug, but Xander? Well, without Camilla to remind him of his duty, or Corrin to look at him with such blasted _hope_ in her eyes, Xander could admit, privately, and only to his retainers, "Nor do I."

"You don't suppose…?' Laslow trailed off. He wasn't sure what he was even going to add to that.

Xander sighed, feeling more exhausted than he had after any of the battles on this thrice-blasted trip. "We must do our duty, Laslow. For the good of Nohr and her people."

"I know," Laslow said quietly. "And please, milord, don't take this to mean I won't."

"I have the utmost faith in you," Xander assured him.

"Thank you." Laslow stared moodily down to his coffee mug.

"I like them, too," Peri suddenly burst out. "Kagero doesn't call me crazy and Setsuna is so funny. Laslow, I know you've been talking about doing some sort of performance with Orochi?"

Laslow turned scarlet. "Peri, she's mostly joking…"

But Peri barreled right on. "And Xander, you and Hinoka get along great!"

"I, er, suppose?"

"It just doesn't seem fair." Peri pouted, jutting her bottom lip out in a classic Peri move. Xander almost laughed.

"It doesn't," he said instead. "In another life, we all might very well have been friends."

"We're friends in this one, too," Laslow pointed out.

Xander didn't know what to say to that.

The inn gradually filled with patrons as the morning wore on. Xander, Laslow, and Peri sat around their table, drinking entirely too weak coffee and picking through a traditional Hoshidan breakfast rather than the salty porridge Ryoma had mistakenly attempted to eat. If Xander shut his eyes (and set down his chopsticks), he could almost imagine this was what it would be like not to have a title.

At one point, a rather harried-looking Odin thudded down the stairs, wrapped in more cloth than Xander had perhaps ever seen the Dark Mage, and Selena was nowhere in sight. Odin walked right up to Laslow—no ceremony, no boisterous greeting—and Xander could just begin to make out some very dark circles under the man's eyes.

Something was very wrong.

"Laslow," Odin murmured in a hoarse voice, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Is something wrong, Odin?" Xander asked, brow furrowing more deeply than it had since leaving Nohr.

Odin tried to smile, but it came out strangled. "Nothing to worry yourself over, Lord Xander."

Xander's title was like a slap across the face, he'd gotten so used to hearing himself addressed without it. He was so stunned, he barely heard Laslow's," I'll be right back, milord." He could only watch as his grey-haired retainer followed his blond friend out the door.

Morning in Hoshido was far warmer than in Nohr, and Laslow took a moment to marvel at the sun on his face before he turned to Odin. He opened his mouth to speak, but Odin just shook his head. Wide-eyed and pale-faced, the mage tugged at the cuff of his night shirt, undoing the buttons and sliding the cloth up his arm.

And there, on his forearm, was the Brand of the Exalt.

Laslow breathed in sharply, drawing instinctively closer to the scales-like sigil that was the symbol of his hometown heroes. "I thought Anankos had wiped this from you."

Odin twitched. "He did."

Laslow's eyes shot wide and he whipped his head up to get a better read on Odin's face. "Well, when did it show back up?"

"Early this morning," Odin said quietly. He tried not to dwell on the fact that his arm had been comfortably curled around Selena's sleeping form.

"Does this has anything to do with Selena?" Laslow asked.

Odin winced. "I don't think so."

Laslow's brow furrowed in a comical interpretation of Xander's—or rather, it would have been, if not for the next words out of his mouth: "Odin… did something happen? I mean, I figured it did, since you both seemed intent to leave together, but I, um…" He coughed.

Pain flashed across the blond mage's face. "Just be happy with Peri for me, okay Inigo?"

Laslow's facial expression hardened. Severa would always be fine, steely and acerbic as she was, but Owain was far softer, gentler. He took after his mother that way. If there was to be a fight between his dearest friends in the world—well, there was no contest which side he would have to support.

"What did she do?" Laslow demanded.

Odin shook his head. "Please, don't."

"Owain!"

"Yes?"

Laslow's eyes narrowed. "Don't do that."

Odin smiled that same tired smile, and Laslow knew in that moment he would never get anything out of him.

"Fine," Laslow huffed, a plan already forming in his mind. "What about the Brand?"

Odin's smile fell away. "I don't know."

"Can you still hide it?"

Odin nodded, rubbing at the tattoo-like symbol on his arm. "Even once we get back to Nohr and I have to wear the Dark Mage's robes, I should be able to hide it fine."

"Good." Laslow nodded, but still—"I wonder what it means?"

"So do I." Odin glanced over his shoulder, as if worried he'd be overheard. "Do you think Anankos' power is weakening? The good one, that is."

"I don't know," Laslow said. "Maybe? It doesn't feel like the right answer to me, though."

"Agreed." Odin put a hand to his chin in thought. "I wonder if something is going on at home?"

Laslow's insides seized up at the thought of what could possibly be causing Odin's Brand to reappear, if the culprit were back at home. "You don't think…?" His voice was hardly above a whisper.

"I hope," Odin cut in.

 _"_ _Shit."_

Laslow squeezed his eyes shut. First, there was the impending loss of his new friends from Hoshido, and now the Brand had returned and Grima might possibly have found some way to come back to haunt them all? It was too much, too _damn_ much.

Laslow wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, and break something. He wanted to crawl into Peri's arms and never leave. He wanted to go home, and wanted to stay as far away from his baby self and the possibility of Grima's return for as long as he possibly could. He wanted to run as far as he could, as _fast_ as he could, and never look back.

But he instead drew himself up, and put on a dazzling grin. "Well then," Laslow said, his voice shaky but still passably strong, "we'll just have to assume it's business as usual until we hear otherwise."

Odin nodded grimly. "Right. We should probably keep a closer eye on Corrin, too."

"Capital idea. I'll speak with Selena about it, since she's in the best position to be able to."

Odin's shoulders relaxed, but only just. "Thank you."

"Of course." Laslow patted Odin's shoulder in a way he hoped was sympathetic. "Let me know if there's anything I can do, Owain."

"I will," Odin assured him. Laslow studied his old friend for a long moment, prompting Odin to add, "I promise."

"Okay." Laslow turned to go, but Odin enveloped him in a sideways, bone-crushing hug. Laslow winced at himself for not noticing he needed one sooner, and returned the hug with equal force.

They stood like that for a moment, and so Laslow knew the exact moment Odin began weeping. It was quiet—almost unnoticeable—but Laslow knew better. He rubbed soothing circles into Odin's back, and waited.

"Inigo," Odin finally said, his voice muffled in Laslow's shoulder, "what did I do wrong?"

"I don't think anything," Laslow said gently.

"Then why is she doing this?"

"I don't know, my friend." _But I'm going to find out._

 ** _-_ )**

To those without PM:

Anonymous: lol, touchdown. Thanks for leaving that comment; it cracked me up.


	35. Chapter 35

When the Key Dragons set out later that day for the Bottomless Canyon, the overall mood was subdued, despite their raucous victory celebration from the night before. The shadow of their impending future had settled over the mercenary band like a blanket of snow, quiet and insulating.

"How should I know what his problem is?" Selena huffed.

Laslow folded his arms across his chest, although the effect was sort of ruined by the fact that he had to keep walking. "Selena, don't be dense. Everything seemed fine last night after you both disappeared, and this morning I wake to this." He gestured vaguely in Odin's direction.

"And I _told_ you, I don't know why he's like this!"

Laslow grit his teeth. "I _know_ you know something. It has to be you."

"Or, your brilliant deduction is wrong." Selena leaned over and flicked Laslow directly in the forehead, _exactly_ the way he hated most. "It can happen."

Laslow made wordless noise of irritation. "Did he at least seem normal last night?"

 _No,_ Selena wanted to say, _he was more determined than I think I've ever seen him. Still the sweetest boy, though._ "More or less," she said instead.

"And he did nothing outside of the ordinary?" Laslow pressed.

 _I wouldn't go that far._ "That's what I just said!"

Laslow made that frustrated noise again. "Dammit, Severa, _help me."_

She softened, just a little. "I know his Brand came back," she said. "I'm sure that's got to be unsettling him."

"Any idea why?"

Selena gave an over-exaggerated shrug. "It's all big damn hero stuff, right? Who knows? Could be Grima."

"And are you telling me that thought _doesn't_ terrify you?"

"Of course it does," Selena snapped, "but he's worlds away. What could we even do to stop it?"

"That's what you said the last time," Laslow argued, "and look how that turned out."

Selena gave an annoyed huff. "Did you just find me to be annoying this morning?"

"No." Laslow glanced over his shoulder, checking for eavesdroppers out of necessary, paranoid habit. "Odin and I figure, our godly friend's power might be weakening."

Selena blanched. "Wouldn't that mean our godly _un_ friend is getting stronger?"

Laslow nodded solemnly. "It may very well."

Selena's mind was left reeling. Anankos was a dragon god, like Grima, or Naga. She couldn't begin to fathom what sort of thing would make him _weaken_. Granted, the part of him that had brought Owain, Inigo, and herself here to Nohr was merely a split-off chunk of his soul. That it could weaken made far more sense than the massive, mad god as a whole.

"We're going to have to keep a closer eye on Corrin," Laslow continued quietly, breaking into Selena's runaway train of thought. "You're in a better position than Odin or I, you'll have to—"

"And where does _that_ logic come from?" Selena cut in. "We're all retainers to her siblings."

"Camilla actively seeks out her little sister," Laslow said patiently, "where as Xander actively avoids her. _Where,_ indeed?"

Selena rolled her eyes. "And Odin doesn't have eyes?"

"Soon enough, he'll be back with Leo," Laslow reminded her, "who spends most of his time in the library."

Selena sighed. Leave it to Laslow to make Odin's problem more work for her. "Fine," she said. "I'll make sure Corrin's breathing."

" _Selena."_

"Oh, don't be such a worrywort," Selena snapped. "I know how to do my job."

Laslow's eyes narrowed, and Selena softened, just a little.

"Inigo, you _know_ me. I'll keep an eye on her."

"Why don't you ever just _say_ that?" Laslow huffed.

Selena shrugged—"Sorry to disappoint, but no matter my name, it's the same me inside."—and fell back, effectively ending the conversation.

Laslow could have chased after her, he supposed, but he had no desire to cause a scene. Scenes would raise questions, and questions would raise answers, and then where would that leave them?

So he did the next best thing. He went to Beruka.

The wyvern rider was speaking quietly with Niles, their heads bent and voices so quiet, Laslow could almost have sworn they weren't even having a conversation. The instant Laslow got within earshot, Beruka's head snapped up, and Niles forcibly relaxed his shoulders.

"Laslow, don't you have some floozy to annoy?" the bowman drawled.

"I wouldn't call her a floozy," Laslow returned, "but it's your relationship." Without skipping a beat, he turned to the wyvern rider. "Beruka, my dear, do you have a minute?"

Her facial expression belied nothing. "What do you want, Laslow?"

Laslow flicked a purposeful glance to Niles. "You'll have to call off your dog, first."

Beruka said nothing, but pinned Laslow in a piercing stare that left him feeling like she'd shot him.

"I have a job for you," Laslow elaborated.

A faint gleam entered Beruka's normally dull, grey eyes. She said something to Niles that Laslow couldn't quite catch, and the bowman disappeared, studying Laslow as he went.

"I didn't realize Lord Xander have need of an assassin," Beruka said once he was out of earshot.

"He doesn't," Laslow said hurried, "and neither do I, for that matter."

Beruka's face shut down hard, back to that stony mask that made Xander's look like a child playing dress-up. "Then _why_ are you wasting my time?"

"I'm not doing that either!" Laslow held his hands up, palms out in a placating gesture one might use on an unbroken stallion. Or a wyvern. "I just need you to get some information out of someone."

Beruka relaxed slightly—which was about as much as she ever did, in all fairness—and the light returned to her eyes. "What do you need out of whom?"

Laslow glanced over both of his shoulders, located Beruka's future targets, and then glanced back to the assassin-turned-retainer. "I need you to get Selena to tell you what happened last night between her and Odin."

Beruka blinked—once, twice, thrice—and then said, "They had sex, Laslow."

A vein pulsed in Laslow's temple. "Obviously, but why aren't they still _speaking?"_

Beruka cocked her head in the way of a curious wyvern. "I see."

"I know you and Selena are friends—" Startled, Laslow cut himself off when Beruka began to laugh.

It was a wheezing, underused thing, but clearly identifiable as laughter. Laslow found himself dumbstruck as Beruka said, "You know I don't work cheap."

"Why, Beruka, my dove." A dazzling grin spread across Laslow's face. "I have the perfect payment."

The assassin grew horribly, eerily still, like a statue. Or a corpse.

Laslow leaned forward so as to cut off the slightest chance of being overheard. "I'll keep quiet about your little one." He flicked a glance down to Beruka's as-of-yet flat stomach. "And get you whatever you like for the nursery, when the time comes."

Beruka's hand shot out before she could even think to stop it, yanking at the collar of Laslow's padded gambeson. Laslow warily eyed her stubby, lethal fingers as they came to a stop mere inches from his throat.

"Who told you?" Beruka snapped.

Laslow had a hell of a time maintaining his smile. "You."

Beruka snorted derisively, and let go. She studied Laslow as he readjusted his collar, "Fine. I'll see what I can get Selena to tell me."

Laslow gave her a funny little salute Beruka had seen Selena use, once or twice. "Nagaspeed, dear Beruka. Come find me if you discover anything interesting."

Beruka nodded. "Right."

-)

For the third time that minute, Xander turned over what he knew about Anankos.

1\. That was the name of the dragon god carved into the ceiling in Castle Krakenberg's throne room.

2\. His father had begun worshipping Anankos at some point; Xander couldn't recall exactly when.

3\. Corrin's "punishments" were supposedly the creature's divine judgment.

And that was, woefully, all.

It wasn't that Xander hadn't _tried_ to learn anything more. He and Leo had had spent countless midnight hours pouring over tomes in the library, trying to escape the attention of both his father and Iago. Sadly, they'd never been able to come up with more than a reference or two to the dragon god, typically alongside the Dusk and Dawn Dragons of Nohr and Hoshido, respectively.

He had warned Camilla, of course, just as his mother had told him to. Unfortunately, his little sister had no further knowledge than he did, and even less experience pouring over tomes than her brothers. (There was a reason she'd forsaken magic for the axe, after all.)

Not for the first time, Xander found his gaze wandering over toward the Hoshidan retinue. Would they know anything? He doubted it. A little voice in the back of his mind tried to insist that it was worth a try, and the Hoshidans wouldn't know enough to be suspicious of father. It was as close to zero risk as real life could possibly achieve. _And_ if he asked Hinoka, Xander doubted she'd care enough to put two and two together, anyhow.

For some reason, however, that thought didn't quite sit right with him, and so here he remained.

And _what_ had gotten into him, anyway? Why had he told Hinoka all of those things about his mother? He'd never even told Camilla some of it. Something had shifted between them, and Xander knew she knew it, but he struggled to recognize _what._

 _Trust,_ he stumbled upon, a moment later. _You trust her._

"Shit," he said aloud.

"Good morning to you, too," Hinoka said brightly, appearing at Xander's elbow like Camilla or Peri.

Xander's head snapped toward her, and he was struck by how different she seemed this morning. He couldn't put his finger on it, and so he opened cautiously with, "And where is Akatsuki this morning?"

"Setsuna has her," Hinoka said. "She didn't sleep well last night, so I figured she could use a nap."

Xander blinked. "Can she sleep in the saddle?"

"Oh, yeah," Hinoka said. "She's done this plenty of times. Azama's looking after her—as much as he does, anyway. You know how it goes."

 _She's talking too much,_ Xander noted. _Why is she talking so much?_

"And where are Laslow and Peri?" Hinoka continued. "I'm surprised to find you alone, honestly."

"Laslow's been looking after Odin and Selena this morning," Xander returned cautiously, "and I'm sure Peri is with him."

Hinoka blinked. "They just left you?"

Annoyance flashed in Xander's eyes. "I'm not an invalid. Besides, your retainers have also left you alone, have they not?"

"I don't need looking after," Hinoka snapped.

"Nor do I."

"Sure, but _I'm_ not the High Princess."

This was going nowhere. "Did you _need_ something, Lady Hinoka, or did you just come to criticize my retainers?"

Hinoka stopped walking. "Since when have I been _Lady_ Hinoka?"

"Since birth, I would presume," Xander deadpanned.

Hinoka rolled her eyes, and took up pace beside him. "Alright, _Lord_ Xander, I did have a question for you."

Xander tried not to wince at his title. This woman wielded it like a cleaver. "Go on, then."

"I didn't want to ask you the other night," Hinoka said, softening despite herself, "but—what was your mother saying to you, just before she died?"

Xander's back stiffened, his broad shoulders going taut beneath his borrowed, Master-of-Arms armor. "Why do you ask?"

Hinoka grit her teeth. "Am I not allowed to care about you?"

Xander's face softened. "Lady Hinoka, _please_."

"Fine. I know." She sighed. "We _both_ know it's better if I don't, but it's too late for that. So let's pretend for a moment that we aren't marching you back to Nohr to pick up where the war left off, and act like you're still a friend of mine who just recently watched his mother die."

Where had she learned to so thoroughly disarm an opponent, Xander wondered idly. Ryoma? That advisor she'd mentioned—Yukimura? The Pegasus knights?

Her own mother?

"She asked me to warn Camilla," Xander finally said. He knew that was irritatingly vague, and made the split second decision to add, "She said Anankos' men are coming."

"Anankos?"

 _Well,_ Xander thought, _here goes nothing._ "An ancient Nohrian deity, probably from pre-Dusk Dragon times."

Something clicked in the far-off recesses of Hinoka's brain. "Ancient Hoshidan, too," she said. "Pre-Dawn Dragon."

Despite the terseness of the last few minutes, the two turned to look at each other, really _look_. Hinoka saw a tired man with his natural blond peeking through the dark brown dye at the roots, a man with a will as strong as iron, and hopefully not the fist to match. Xander saw a determined woman with the blaze of ambition in her eyes, a spine ramrod straight and made of steel.

"Once is an accident," Xander said quietly, "twice is coincidence, but three times is a pattern."

"I wonder if Izumo has references in their legends?" Hinoka said, already breaking away from Xander's side. "I'll write a letter to Izana right now!"

"Wait a… hold on, now!" Xander called after her.

"What?" Hinoka shouted back.

Xander winced as several of the Key Dragons turned toward the noise. He didn't want everyone hearing this, and he wouldn't have this Hoshidan woman make a fool of him. Xander made the decision to catch up with her before he argued, "By the time you would get a response, I'd already be back in Nohr."

Hinoka shrugged. "So I'll write you a letter."

"And how do you propose it reach me without being read or burned?"

Hinoka winced at herself. _Right. The war_. "I'll write Corrin a letter, then," she huffed.

Xander almost asked why she was being difficult. He almost asked why she cared to help. He almost asked why she was trying (and failing) to be so standoffish, why she let her retainers walk on her, and why her mind immediately jumped to Izumo instead of one of the internal Hoshidan tribes, as Xander's had jumped to the Ice Tribe.

But he didn't. Such things sounded like whining, like getting to know the enemy princess, like things he would ask a friend or ally or tactician in his army.

Such things would only make the inevitable split at the Bottomless Canyon harder.

"Perfect," Hinoka said, mistaking his silence for something else entirely. "Then it's settled. Besides, Izana might get back to me before we even reach the Bottomless Canyon. He's been known to fling letters left and right to get at the latest gossip."

She was talking too much again. What _had_ gotten into her? Xander might have had two younger sisters himself, but that didn't seem to be helping him any at this particular junction. He didn't know Hinoka's typical stress responses, her tells, or even her sparring style. There was the added layer of foreignness that the language barrier created, although she was fairly practiced with Nohrian and her accent was lighter than either of her brothers'.

And why was he thinking about all of this, anyway?

"You okay?"

He was, once again, snapped out of his line of thought. "Beg pardon?"

"Are you okay?" Hinoka repeated, without a trace of annoyance. "You seem sort of…" She made an ethereal gesture with one hand. "…out of it."

"Yes, I'm fine." Xander forced a smile, although he knew that to the casual observer, it would seem completely natural. "Simply tired."

 **-)**

 **So life's a bitch, and so is moving. Sorry for the delay, but rest assured, this fic will be written, dammit.**

 **Also, I have no idea whose reviews I've replied to and whose I haven't, so please don't take it personally if I haven't responded to yours (and feel free to let me know via PM or something).**

 **Thanks for your patience, and I hope y'all enjoy these little shits as much as I do.**


	36. Chapter 36

"Bit early for the start of the rainy season," Orochi commented one morning, "don't you think?"

"I suppose," Kagero replied, tugging her hood down further over her eyes.

It had been raining all morning and showed no sign of slowing. The Key Dragons had paused in their march for the Hoshidan half of the retinue to pull out oilcloaks, but the rain didn't seem to faze the Nohrians in the slightest.

"At least this isn't snow," Laslow said to Peri as they trekked onward.

The cavalier shivered. "I'm not sure this armor would hold up in the snow, Lazzy." She looked down to her borrowed spear fighter's armor. It had come to feel almost normal, this Hoshidan armor. She still missed her steel chestplate and her comfy undershirt, but there was something to be said about the loose, freeing quality of the long, Hoshidan skirt and leggings.

"Likely not," Laslow agreed with a laugh.

The odd melancholy of the last week hadn't lifted, and seemed only to be growing thicker as the Key Dragons drew closer to the Bottomless Canyon. Xander hadn't yet formulated a plan as to how they would be getting across the border without attracting attention. For he, his siblings, and their retainers to be crossing the border would raise little suspicion. His father encouraged his wartime maneuvers, after all.

The issue was the Hoshidans.

Getting across the border with _them_ in tow, without being pinned down or noticed, was not nearly so simple. Iago's eyes saw all—or so the sorcerer always said—and the last thing Xander needed was his father catching wind that he, Camilla, and Corrin had been seen in the company of Hoshidans who weren't imprisoned or double agents.

It had been an easy enough thing to forget, deep in Hoshidan territory. Iago had no reason to be looking for them, all the way out there, and so Xander could breathe a little easier. Even the mishap with Hans could be blamed on Ryoma and Raijinto—and the samurai had stated on more than one occasion that he would bear said blame gladly.

But this close to Nohr, Iago's eyes would be out and his spies would be close. Xander had to plan his next move very carefully, lest this whole mess be for naught. _And what a fine mess it was,_ Xander couldn't help but think, rather fondly.

He shook himself to clear the thought. Now was now time to get sentimental.

He supposed they could leave the Hoshidans in the nearest border town, and the Nohrians could simply forge on ahead. In fact, the longer Xander thought on it, the more sensible that plan became. Though for some reason, it didn't sit well on his stomach—like his plan with Laslow's mother's costume chain, still coiled in his breast pocket like a viper.

"Milord?" interrupted a familiar voice. "Are you well?"

Xander snapped from his musings, and found his mark in Laslow and Peri. The man with no past was looking at him expectantly, at the ready for whatever his Lord's answer should be. The reforming cavalier bounced uneasily on the balls of her feet, unhappy to see her lord upset and unable to do anything about it.

This was how it should be, right? All was right with the world? The Crown Prince of Nohr had his trusted retainers by his side once more, and the sky was as gloomy as ever he'd seen in his home country. He should have been comforted by the notion—or at least put to ease—but Xander could only think of how bleak everything felt.

Did Nohr always feel this way? Or had a few weeks in Hoshido merely spoiled him?

"Yes, I'm fine," Xander repeated. "Merely tired."

"I get that," said Peri. "I'm tired, too. War is hard."

"Losing a war is hard _er,"_ Laslow reminded her.

The banter was so familiar as to be banal. Xander itched to do something to break apart the monotony that was stretching out before them. He tried to brush it off as the march. Yes, it was the _march_ that was interminable, certainly not the impending loss they were all feeling.

 _Father would be ashamed of me._

-)

That evening when the Key Dragons set up camp, the somber overtones only darkened further when they discovered they were out of ale. Beruka cursed her luck—so much as she cursed anything that wasn't actively trying to kill her—and waited patiently outside of Selena's tent, running a cursory whetstone over her axe.

Although she had waited through far longer stakeouts, Beruka found herself wishing that Selena would just hurry up and go to bed already. The assassin's body ached in ways it never had before, likely due to the… _thing_ growing inside her. And the still-healing arrow wound in her side, but that was more standard.

"Beruka?" Selena's rough voice snapped Beruka's attention forward.

 _"_ _There_ you are," Beruka said, as close to reproachfully as she could muster.

Selena looked flabbergasted. "Were you… _waiting_ for me?"

"That would be the implication." Beruka rose to her feet, joints cracking as she did so.

"What for?"

Beruka cocked her head like a curious animal. "I had a question for you."

Selena blinked a few times. "A question?"

"Yes."

Selena looked like there were a few things she wanted to say, but settled for, "Well, what is it?"

What, indeed? Beruka had spent much of this evening trying to answer that very question. What was a plausible enough reason that the famously tight-lipped assassin would seek out her fellow retainer? Something to do with Lady Camilla, surely?

The matter was taken out of Beruka's hands entirely when Selena read her reticence as something else: "Is it about the baby?"

A more lively person might have been said to jump on the question, but Beruka was far too sedate for such things. Nevertheless, she was hardly about to throw away the perfect opportunity she'd just been handed. "Yes."

Selena held up one slim, pale finger, and then ducked her head into her and Peri's tent. She popped back out again a moment later, and gestured for Beruka to follow.

The inside of Selena and Peri's shared space was dark and cool, padded with blankets and the two women's bedrolls (set as far apart as the space allowed). Selena eased herself into her nest of blankets, and gestured for Beruka to sit on Peri's. At the questioning look she received, Selena added, "Peri won't be back for ages. She'll be with Laslow for most of the night."

Her face set into grim lines, Beruka lowered herself gingerly onto the Crown Prince's insane retainer's bedroll. It was surprisingly soft, and Beruka couldn't help but run her fingers over the quilted fabric.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Selena asked, more gently than Beruka would have assumed possible, from the sharp-tongued woman. "Labor? Delivery? The weird things your body is going to start doing?"

Beruka blanched at the sheer weight of what was coming, but refused to dwell on it at the present moment. "You sound as though you've been pregnant yourself, before."

Selena stilled, her hands coming to rest in her lap instead of playing with her pigtails. " _I_ haven't, no," she said quietly, "thank Naga. But a good friend of mine has. Twice, actually. One time was even with twins." She smiled faintly at the memory of the two little Morgans, so inquisitive and playful, like their elder counterparts who plopped into the past a tad late in the game.

Beruka paled even further. "Did she… know, she was having twins?'

Too late, Selena realized her mistake. "Oh yeah, totally." She waved her hands abnout, as if she could clear out the Chrom-like foot-in-mouth she'd just pulled. "Apparently twins run in her family, so she really wasn't all that surprised."

"I see," said Beruka, a bit uneasily.

Selena could have slapped herself. Beruka didn't _know_ her family, and now she'd gone and made the poor thing worry about having _twins._ Ugh, she was so useless. Didn't an assassin carrying a outlaw's baby have enough issues to deal with?

"This friend of yours," Beruka began quietly, "was she a warrior?"

Selena nodded fervently. "Best damn mage we'd ever seen. And if you gave her a Levin sword?" Selena drew a finger across her throat. "Not a man left standing."

"And how did she handle her pregnancy on top of that?"

"Is that what you're worried about?" Selena asked. Beruka nodded, at first slowly, then a bit more firmly. "Well, Robin fought with us for a time. Eventually her husband made her stay on the back lines and help run tactics and supplies and stuff like that." Selena's face soured as her thoughts turned to Chrom.

Beruka raised an eyebrow. "Did you not like her husband?"

Selena heaved a massive sigh. "There was nothing _wrong_ with him. He was just…" _Not my father,_ she wanted to say, _but my mother was in love with him anyway._

Beruka fixed Selena in a steady gaze, and waited for the woman to become so uncomfortable she felt the urge to add something to her previous statement. It didn't take long.

"He was…" Selena stopped, and started again. "Well, his _father_ was a respected knight of the kingdom. Lovely man, if a bit awkward. Half of the women in the kingdom were in love with him, including my mother." Selena drew in a deep breath, and said, even more quietly, "That man is not my father."

Beruka figured that she was supposed to emote something here, but the what was far beyond her. She settled for, "And yet?"

Selena sighed, and flopped backwards onto her pillow. "And yet, my mother married my father anyway." She stilled. "I don't think she loved him, Beruka."

The assassin was surprised that her fellow retainer would reveal so much to _her_ , of all people. "Did you ever ask her?"

Selena shook her head. "My mother's not the kind of woman you can ask that of."

"I see," said Beruka. Maybe family was overrated, after all.

"That man _is_ Odin's uncle, though. So I could never avoid him, and neither could my mother."

Understanding dawned on Beruka. Had Selena stopped run out on the obnoxious mage because of this… "You never mentioned a name."

Selena tensed. "Why do you need one?"

"Names are for people worth remembering," Beruka said, "and clearly, you remember him."

Selena sighed, defeated. "Chrom. His name was Chrom."

Just as Beruka opened her mouth to say something else, she became aware of footsteps outside the tent. "I think Peri is here."

Selena's brow furrowed. "That's strange. Normally she's a lot later than…" She cut herself off when, inexplicably, the round, motherly face of their liege appeared in the entrance gap.

"Oh," said Camilla, "lovely, you're both here."

As she folded herself into a sitting position in what little room was left in the tent (right in front of the entrance, coincidentally), Selena ventured, "Milady? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, actually," Camilla said. She fixed Beruka in a hard-eyed stare that would have made the assassin shiver, had she done such things. "Beruka, darling, when were you going to tell me that you were pregnant?"

 **-)**

 **This is the part where, if I could, I would stick a gif of Mushu from Mulan rising up out of the snow shouting "I LIVE!"**

 **As ever:**

 **Guest #1: Xander meant Camilla had no patience for studying like magic requires, not that she can't do it.**

 **Guest #2: Thank you :) Glad you're enjoying my work**

 **TooLazyToLogIn: 1, lol, 2, good eye! He has not.**


	37. Chapter 37

Xander'd had enough.

Both in the sense of alcohol, and in the sense that he'd watched the same small-town, low-life assholes hitting on not one, not two, but _three_ of his female companions—two of whom were his bloody sisters—all evening. Ordinarily, he didn't have to worry about this sort of thing; Camilla was _more_ than capable of fending for herself, and genuinely grew annoyed if Xander stepped in. But Corrin looked distinctly uncomfortable, and repeatedly tugged on the short tunic of her samurai armor as if it would reach further down her thighs by sheer force of will. Hinoka was laughing too loudly, swearing too forcefully, and slamming her tankards down too aggressively, sloshing beer across the table in an attempt to appear as unladylike as humanly possible.

Xander took a deep breath, counted to ten for the millionth time that evening, and took another sip of beer.

"Lord Xander?" Laslow inputted delicately. "You seem troubled."

"Do you need someone stabbed?" Peri asked, scooting toward the edge of her seat. "I can do that."

Xander sighed. "No, Peri." He set down his tankard. "Although they could probably use a decent clocking."

"I can do that, too," said Peri hopefully.

Xander was just about to dissuade her again when what he noticed at his sisters' table made him choke on his ale. The man who had been bothering Corrin all night had been leering at her backside as she'd gotten up, and actually had the audacity to _grab it._ Corrin had immediately yelped and swatted his hand away, but the man had only cackled, and his friends joined in. Fury blazed in Hinoka's eyes, hot and wild, and Camilla cut the laughter short with a biting comment Xander was unfortunately too far away to catch.

He thumped both hands down on the table and pushed himself up to his full height, broad shoulders creaking in protest. Xander's scowl only deepened as he thundered across the bar toward Camilla, Corrin, and Hinoka's table.

In his wake, Laslow murmured a quiet, "Oh, _no."_

Xander didn't even stop for pleasantries, instead yanking the man upright by the scruff of his neck. "You will apologize," Xander barked, as if giving marching orders.

"Hey, now!" The bald man's hands came up to the level of his eyes, palms out. "Nobody said she was yours."

Xander blinked a few times. "My _sister,"_ he then snapped. "And moreover, it doesn't matter. You have no right to—"

"Oh, _moreover,"_ one of the man's friends sneered. He leaned back in his chair, the picture of languid power. "This bloke thinks he's better than us, gents."

A vein pulsed in Camilla's temple. "'Gent' is not how I'd describe you."

The man beside her winked over his tankard of ale. "You're cute when you're feisty."

"Then you're gonna _love_ me." Hinoka slammed her hands onto the table and pushed herself up to her full height.

Somewhere across the bar, Azama noticed the display and uttered a quiet, "Oh, _no."_

"Piss off," Hinoka snarled, "or I'll knock the piss out of you."

"Please," Xander said, not really understanding why, " _do_ allow me."

Hinoka shook her head. "Together."

And the paladin and the sky knight each sent a fist careening into the bald man's jaw line. The man crashed across the table, dragging glassware with him and narrowly missing cutlery.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are?!" the man who'd been sitting next to Camilla barked. He had a nasty scar over his cheekbone—the result of a training accident, perhaps, or an agricultural machine malfunction.

"Crown Prince Xander," said the paladin flatly, "heir of Nohr."

Laughter skittered across the bar, which had gone deathly silent in watching Xander's war march. It took Xander a moment to realize that everyone had assumed he'd been _joking._ Even Hinoka and Camilla let off surprised, uneasy laughs. Corrin could only stare at her old brother, ruby eyes wide.

"Don't be a shit," the scarred man barked, helping his friend roll off the table with some difficulty.

"Oh, that's rich," Camilla hissed, now on her feet herself.

The third man, who until now had been lazily spread across his chair, was now on upright, staring Camilla down like an angry bull. "Don't start shit you can't finish," he threatened lowly.

A shattering of glass came from across the bar. Everyone at the table turned toward the source of the noise, only to discover Niles with a smashed wine bottle in one hand and the broken shards of glass in the other, arrayed through his fingers like shuriken. Blood ran down his fingers, but the one-eyed archer seemed not to notice.

And that's about when the fight started.

The bald man launched himself at Xander, who only just had the time to duck out of the way like a boxer in a cage match. Hinoka instinctively lashed out with a roundhouse kick that unfortunately left her wide open to the scarred man's tackle. In the same moment, Camilla put herself between the lazy man and Corrin, not that it ended up mattering. The entire bar had erupted into chaos, and it seemed anyone who wasn't in direct service to either Crown was a threat.

"'Ey!" Niles barked. "Archer-boy!" Takumi jerked his head towards where the one-eyed man hadn't even bothered to rise from his seat. "Take these."

Takumi fumbled with the glass shards Niles sent his way, managing not to drop any by some miracle, although his hands were torn up in the process. "What are these for?"

"Come over here, and I can show you a thing or two," Niles said with a wink (which was sort of undermined by the eye patch), and a shake of the hand holding the shards like shuriken.

Takumi's cheeks bloomed scarlet, but Beruka didn't even crack a smile. The assassin had already leapt from her seat beside Niles, pelting headlong into the melee without so much as a backward glance.

"Hey!" Takumi managed. "That is _enough_ with the—"

"If you don't last longer than thirty seconds," Ryoma said to his brother as he jogged past, "you're an embarrassment to the family!"

 _"_ _THAT IS ENOUGH, LOBSTER-MAN!"_ Takumi bellowed after his older brother, but he still flung a shard of glass at the woman who had tried to clock Ryoma over the head with a wine bottle not unlike Niles'. The shard struck true; the woman dropped the bottle as she shrieked in pain and clutched her bleeding forearm.

Saizo sprang forward to protect his liege, Kagero directly in tow. The ninja were born for subterfuge, naturally, but Kagero had never been more grateful for her ability to incapacitate without killing than she was in that moment. Ryoma, for his part, was throwing punches like this was all in good fun, and not because his "brother-in-law" was an overprotective git, to use Saizo's muttering.

 _Although to be fair,_ Kagero thought privately, _Lord Ryoma would have done something similar, if he'd gotten there first._

The moment the fight had broken out, Orochi had ducked for cover behind the bar. She was a being made for divination and magic, thank you very much. These brutes could pound on each other as much as she wanted; she would stay out of it.

"Beruka!" Camilla barked as her reticent retainer appeared near her in the brawl. "You must stand down!"

"With all—" Beruka paused to drop below someone's clumsy punch, and rolled her shoulder directly into the woman's solar plexus. "—due respect milady,—" She took the second punch, thrown by the woman's husband, directly in the jaw. Beruka snarled and lashed out, grabbing the man by the collar of his loose, white shirt, and throwing him bodily over the nearest table. "—I will _not."_

The unfortunately side effect of Beruka's professional bar-brawling was that Corrin had been separated from Camilla. The dragon-woman held no love for war, skilled as she was in it, and was honestly too stunned by the last few minutes to do much, anyway. "Kaze!" she shouted, not really anywhere in particular. "Where are you?"

A voice sounded from over her shoulder—"Here, milady."—and was followed by a purple-haired figure in her periphery, whipping around the edge of the table to smash into the bald man's side with all the force of a royal ninja.

Meanwhile, Setsuna had appeared in the doorway, back from her trip to the bathroom. She stared at the room in confusion, blinking once, twice, thrice, and then finding that this chaos was still going on.

"Setsuna!" Hinata called over to her. "Get behind us!"

"Okay!" Setsuna dropped under a few punches while she made her way over to the booth where Lord Takumi had positioned himself behind the wall of muscle that was Hinata and Oboro. "Should I get my bow?"

Oboro's eyes widened almost comically over the back of the man she'd just kneed in the groin. "We're not trying to kill anybody!"

"Oh." Setsuna accepted a few of the glass shards Lord Takumi handed her with some reluctance, but the glass felt familiar and solid in her hands. "Okay."

When the fight had broken out, Laslow and Peri immediately snapped forward, determined to protect their liege. It turned out that Hinoka apparently had that covered, and that Xander could probably use the catharsis of beating the living piss out of someone, anyway. So now they remained, as ever, each other's watcher and protector. Peri was giggling as she smashed her fist into noses and ears and heard cartilage crunch. Laslow tried very hard to flit between assailants and around tables, and keep Peri from losing herself in a fight that was really not meant to have anyone die afterward.

Odin and Selena, however, had not snapped to in defense of their lieges. One, Odin's was currently in the astral castle, and two, because Beruka apparently had Lady Camilla covered. Instead, Odin had placed himself bodily between Selena and anything in her vicinity, effectively trapping her in the booth she'd previously occupied with Kaze and Azama.

" _Move it,_ Odin," Selena barked, hammering on his back.

Odin said nothing, which, when Selena thought about it later on, had to have nearly murdered the man.

"Odin, you're a mage now! Get out of my bloody way!"

But Odin refused to budge, instead rolling under and around blows meant for no one in particular. Even when he made a fist out of it, his fell hand twitched and shook, although that seemed to do nothing to his aim.

Selena huffed her last sigh of annoyance, and ducked under the table proper. It was a real effort to squirm around the table legs (and a real test of fortitude not to squeal at the used napkins and dead roach under the table), but she managed to wiggle her way out of the table and into the melee proper—and right into the direct path of someone's boot.

Selena snarled in pain, and the sound made Odin's focus snap around. He cursed when he found her missing from where he'd supposedly been protecting her—cursed her with every deity he knew—before he took to scouring the nearby tables for her.

Selena felt her heart twist cruelly in her chest, and made up for it by launching herself at the nearest villager, who just so happened to be trying to take Azama's festal from him.

It had been a long time since he'd fought like this, Xander thought. Siegfried required such precise control; he could never afford to take his mind off his targets and his strategies for even a moment. But here, in this madcap brawl in a Hoshidan inn in the middle of nowhere, Xander didn't have to be the controlled, precise weapon his father had molded him into. The freedom was intoxicating—or maybe that was the beer—or maybe that was the way Hinoka's long legs kept snapping out to smash a boot into someone's solar plexus—or maybe it was just that Xander felt less like the stoneborn Crown Prince than he perhaps ever had.

Ryoma, in direct contrast, was no stranger to uncontested brawls. Growing up with a brother as prickly as Takumi, Ryoma had long since learned to put up or shut up. In Ryoma's youth, Yukimura had frequently warned him that he would end up as wayward as his father had been, if he didn't shape up. Ryoma, every time and without fail, had taken the insult personally, and had become the High Prince of Hoshidan anyone would be proud of almost out of sheer spite. He never lost his love of a good fight, though. There was just something so _satisfying_ about it.

But all at once, the fisticuffs came to a grinding halt when the bald man Xander had originally yanked to his feet pulled a knife. Camilla and Beruka had been forced to scatter, lest they lose fingers or worse, but Corrin had not been so lucky. And Xander had been just a hair too slow to catch the man before he yanked Corrin to him and pressed the shiny metal blade to her throat.

He didn't need to say anything; the bar grew silent of its own accord.

"That's enough," the man barked anyway, and the bar cringed at the sound.

Hinoka pointedly smashed yet another roundhouse into the man standing next to her.

The bald man scowled, and pressed his knife harder against Corrin's pale, white throat. Blood welled up from the hairline cut, and Corrin's facial expressions seemed torn between terror, horror, and blinding rage.

"Easy there, _milord,"_ the man said mockingly to Xander. "Call off your dogs and maybe I won't slit her pretty little throat."

Xander's teeth ground together so loudly, Hinoka could hear him from where she stood. There was no winning in a standoff like this, and both the bald man and Xander knew it.

"Same goes to you, _milady,_ " the scarred man said, throwing the mockery to Camilla, now. He took up with his friend, the bald man, leering at everyone and sharpening his knife on a raspy old whetstone.

"You _will_ unhand my sister," Camilla said, loathing dripping from every syllable. "Hoshidan dastard."

"Oh _will_ I, now?" The bald man seemed to contemplate Corrin's blood as it pooled on his blade.

Takumi had long since stopped listening to the Nohrians' forced banter with this man who _was holding a damned knife to Corrin's throat._ Takumi turned the final glass shard in his hands over and over while he contemplated what to do. The three men who had been bothering Hinoka, Camilla, and Corrin earlier had positioned themselves between the Nohrians and the door. If they so much as moved, the men could be out the door with Corrin in the following instant, and the Crescent Butchers episode would easily repeat itself.

He would have one shot, then, both literally and figuratively, to make this work.

Takumi first glanced to Oboro, and then Hinata. They both nodded, and only then did the white-haired prince of Hoshido ease himself out of his seat. The man with the knife to Corrin's neck was too busy arguing with Xander and Camilla to notice movement in the background.

As Takumi and his retainers drew nearer, he could pick up bits and pieces of the conversation centered on Corrin. Xander and Camilla, quite rightly, would not back down. The fact that they'd lowered their fists was surprising enough to Takumi. He knew there was nothing either of them could do without risking Corrin's neck in the most literal of senses, but _surely_ their retainers would be…?

Ah, there were Xander's grey-haired dancer and pastel-haired Cavalier. They were talking quickly and quietly back and forth, and could have easily been mistaken for a husband comforting his terrified wife. Takumi didn't see Camilla's assassin, which left an uncomfortable knot in the pit of his stomach, but the sharp-tongued woman who made a habit of pissing everybody off was half-concealed behind the bar. She studied Corrin's assailant intently, as if she could determine where to strike with her words just by looking.

And _gods,_ did Takumi's head hurt. He was used to it, by now—he had always suffered migraines, though never of this magnitude and frequency before—but it made his vision blur sometimes, and sometimes the world would grow hazy, and he'd have to squint through purple fog just to see the nose on the end of his own face.

Takumi set himself twenty-ish paces back from the man with the knife, who was evidently losing patience. Xander and Camilla had subtly crept forward during the course of the standoff, cutting off the man's escape anywhere but out the door. Takumi bit back on his molars; he couldn't risk someone obscuring his line of sight, and these Nohrians were only getting in his way. Helplessly, he glanced to his retainers once more, and Hinata and Oboro nodded once again. They slipped sideways a bit more, making pointed eye contact with Xander's retainers and Hinoka. They all seemed to understand, not that that surprised him about his sister.

Takumi's pulse pounded in his throat. He had to line this up perfectly, and couldn't draw attention to himself to do it. That he'd made it this far undetected was a miracle, and no doubt a testament to Xander's commanding presence (and obvious fury). Privately, Takumi could admit to himself that he was glad to see that Corrin's Nohrians "siblings" cared for her so deeply. At least she had been well looked after, in that damned hellhole of a country.

"We're leaving," the man with the knife growled. "If you try to follow, we'll kill her."

 _Out of time._ Takumi shut his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and then snapped them open and let the glass shard fly with a practiced flick of the wrist. " _HAI!"_ he barked.

The man with the knife jerked his head toward the source of the noise, and was greeted with a shard-shuriken dead between the eyes. He staggered, and his grip on both Corrin's hair and his knife loosened. Oboro and Hinata had shot forward the instant Takumi gave the signal, on perfect course to tackle the two men still standing near Corrin, but they apparently needn't have bothered.

The next moments seemed to happen in slow motion.

Corrin's delicate features settled on blinding rage, and the moment the man's grip loosened, she pressed forward. She pivoted on her feet (bare, as always), borrowed samurai armor billowing out behind her, and dropped into something that looked like a swordsman's stance.

"I make my own fate," she hissed.

She hopped backwards, grinning like a fiend. Horns were growing like vines from her forehead, claws like scythes from her fingers. Corrin rolled forward, the exact way they had seen hundreds of times on the battlefield, but without the Yato to slice through her opponent, she was left with nothing but those claws. Blood splattered across the bald man's clothes, but the princess wasn't finished.

She hopped back again, and the dragon grew further still, swallowing her arms with its grey, scaly hide. She snapped her palms together and the dragon's ruthless jaws grew between them, spitting out a blast of energy not unlike the arrows Takumi fired from Fujin Yumi.

The world resumed its usual pacing.

The man with the knife was blasted backwards. The sound his head made when it cracked against the far wall made Takumi wince. The man grew ominously still, a small splattering of blood on the wall behind him.

Oboro and Hinata pulled up short when it became apparent that Corrin didn't need their help. In fact, they both shied away from the dragon princess, unmasked horror in their eyes. Corrin appeared not to notice either of her brother's retainers, and instead turned back to face Xander and Camilla.

"Let's go," she said hoarsely.

"Right behind you, sister dear," Camilla said, plucking her half-drunk wineglass from the table as she did so. She glanced pointedly to Beruka, who had somehow appeared at her elbow, and the assassin nodded before disappearing to reclaim her liege's effects.

Xander turned to face the silenced bar. He made the "forward march" gesture of Nohrian commanders, and said, lowly, "Key dragons, move out."

The bar patrons watched in horrified silence as the "mercenaries" gathered themselves and their things and began seeing themselves to the door.

"I thought we weren't trying to kill anyone?" Setsuna asked Oboro as the two women hiked up the stairs to grab their weapons, as well as their lieges'.

"Well," Oboro said, glancing with horror to where the bald man still lay motionless, " _we_ weren't."

 **-)**

 **At the risk of getting too personal for a second, here:**

 **PSA to anyone on antidepressants: If you feel like not-yourself for a prolonged but quantifiable period of time, it might not be your mental illness; it might just be the medicine.**

 **Exhibit A: Yours truly was too exhausted to write until she switched to a different medication.**

 **Stay safe, friends. And pay attention to how your medicine makes you feel.**

 **Also:**

 **Sabriel41: Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad you're enjoying my work :)**


	38. Chapter 38

Eyes ablaze, Corrin marched the Key Dragons out of the city and into the night. She was visibly shaking and had refused Azama's offers to heal the wound at her neck. She would not even say a word to Camilla or Xander until well into her march.

"Corrin, why would you turn into a bloody dragon?" Xander asked, exasperated. "You know we're meant to be undercover."

"What our brother is _trying_ to say," Camilla said, with a reproachful look in Xander's direction, "is that was reckless, little sister."

Corrin's shoulders were visibly shaking. "You _let_ him take me."

"Corrin, he _grabbed_ you." Camilla was trying very hard not to sound as exasperated as she felt. "There was nothing Xander or I could have done to stop it, except perhaps read his mind."

"And what would you have had me do instead, Corrin?" Xander interjected. "Run in with Siegfried blazing? He would have killed you before I could even raise my sword."

"You didn't _have_ Siegfried," Corrin said petulantly. "You just _froze_ instead."

"Corrin, he had a _knife to your throat,"_ Xander said with excruciating diction. "I'm not supernaturally gifted; he simply had the advantage."

"It was a standoff," Camilla said, sounding like the epitome of reason. "We should be, yet again, thanking Takumi for his quick thinking."

"Oh, that's right," Corrin snapped, turning sharply away from her older siblings. "I have siblings who _actually care about what happens to me!"_

Xander's heart twisted in his chest. "Corrin!" he shouted after her as she stormed off, irritated and hurt and angry and unsure which one was most prominent.

"Takumi won't put up with that very long," Hinoka offered as she appeared in their midst. "There's only enough room for one petulant royal in his vicinity."

"Too true," Azama agreed. He then held up his festal in clear view of the Nohrian siblings. "Would either of you care for healing?"

"We're fine, thank you," Xander said automatically.

"See to Beruka, if you would kindly," Camilla added.

Across the way, Corrin was flitting between Hoshidan and Nohrian alike, not looking at anyone and not stopping no matter who tried to reach out. She eventually found her brother speaking with his retainers, and both Oboro and Hinata eyed her with terse wariness.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Takumi?" Corrin asked. "Privately?"

Takumi studied her for a moment, and then dismissed Hinata and Oboro. The samurai and the spear fighter took their leave, although they didn't take their eyes off of Corrin the whole way.

"What's up?" said Takumi.

For a moment, Corrin was at a loss. Takumi was easily the sibling who liked her the least, and was actively hostile and grumpy, to boot. He was nothing like the gallant Xander and caring Camilla, nothing like the valiant Ryoma and daring Hinoka. Takumi was surly and moody, like Leo, and had never once seemed glad to see her.

"Thank you," Corrin finally managed, "for saving me."

"I had to," Takumi said brusquely. "You're an idiot."

Corrin blinked—once, twice, thrice—uncomprehending. "I beg your pardon?"

"You are," Takumi repeated with excruciating diction, "an _idiot_ , and you're lucky things didn't turn out worse."

Corrin felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. "What a thing to say!"

Takumi leveled her in a withering look, and began sticking out fingers to count his reasons. "One, why were you not fighting? I _saw_ you using Kaze. What did you think was going to happen if you didn't defend yourself?"

Corrin opened her mouth to interrupt, but Takumi bowled right over her. "Two, you got your brother and sister into a standoff that, frankly, they couldn't really have done much better in negotiating. You're lucky that man didn't slit your throat anyway; Xander looked ready to murder him. And third…!" Takumi lowered his head to stare down his sister's ruby red, unnatural eyes. They always sent a shiver down his spine, and he could never pin down why. "…you turned into a _godsdamned dragon._ Normal people can't do that, Corrin! You just announced to anyone who cares to know that one of the royal families was in that bar. Why didn't you just _punch_ the man?"

"He was trying to _rape and murder me,_ Takumi!" Corrin shouted.

Takumi furiously shook his head, as if to clear it. "As if we would let that happen! You know damn well that if he'd dragged you out of that bar, Saizo and Kaze would have been on him the instant he turned his back."

Corrin was shaking, her hands balled into fists. She'd just come over to thank him, dammit! She didn't need yet another lecture. "I'm not some helpless princess!"

Takumi snorted derisively. "You could have fooled me!" He shook his head again. "But it doesn't matter. You were _outmaneuvered,_ Corrin. You were never going to get out of that within your own power. You needed help."

Corrin's watery eyes narrowed. "I don't need your pity."

"Oh, I don't feel sorry for you," Takumi shot back. "I feel sorry for Camilla and Xander for having to deal with you!"

Corrin's lower lip trembled, and she opened her mouth to speak a few times before shutting it again, silenced. "I just came over here to thank you," she finally said, her voice very small.

"Well, don't," said Takumi. "There's nothing to thank, and you ought to think about what you're doing for _five seconds_ before you do it."

Corrin finally burst into tears, and for a split second, Takumi felt guilt stab into his stomach. "Don't be such a brat," Corrin muttered before turning away, leaving without even saying goodbye.

Takumi huffed an annoyed sigh and kept walking. His head was killing him, and who knew how long this march was going to last? Corrin had been in a mood even before he'd just gone and made it worse; she might just push on through morning to spite them all. They were close to the Bottomless Canyon, after all. It was the last leg of this truce.

"That was indelicately put, Takumi." Xander's very low, very Nohrian voice cleaved into his headache like a greatsword.

Takumi shuffled uncomfortably. "She needed to hear it."

"You misunderstand my brother." Camilla's voice was far less like a greatsword, and more like a knife. "He's saying 'thank you.'"

Takumi visibly recoiled. "'Thank you?'" he repeated, shocked.

"Corrin wouldn't listen to our reasoning," Xander said, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his temples. "Perhaps she'll listen to yours."

Takumi surprised everyone when he said, "Do you have a migraine, too? I get them all the time."

"I'm so sorry," Xander said, with genuine feeling. It wasn't a feeling he'd wish on his worst enemy.

Takumi shifted from one foot to the other. He wanted to ask how the older man dealt with them, since nothing Takumi tried seemed to be working, but that felt so incredibly… intimate. Like a thing one would ask a friend, or a brother-in-law.

So he didn't.

-)

Laslow watched Lady Corrin stomp away from her older siblings in a huff, only to run away from Lord Takumi crying a few minutes later, and couldn't decide whether or not he felt sorry for her.

"Should we make sure she's okay?" Peri asked, watching the dragon woman nervously.

"I'm sure Kaze will," Laslow said.

"I dunno," Peri said. "He seems pretty mad, too."

Laslow glanced over to where the green-haired ninja was deep in conversation with his twin brother and not-sister-in-law. The three ninja had their heads bent together (such as it was, during a march) and were speaking in low, rapid Hoshidan. Kaze wore a look of deep consternation, and Saizo, as ever, simply looked pissed off. Kagero's face was tinged with both worry and annoyance, and Laslow had never seen her look so furiously animated.

"Hmm." Laslow studied the three ninja a moment longer before turning back to Peri. "I wonder if Corrin's good will amongst us has finally run out?"

Peri pursed her lips in thought. "I don't think that's it. I think they're just mad that she gave us all away."

Laslow's eyebrows arched, but before he could say anything, a short, blue-haired assassin appeared in their midst. "Laslow," she said tonelessly, "a word?"

"Of course." Laslow turned to Peri and squeezed her hand. "I'll be back in a minute."

Peri blinked as he followed Beruka over to a relatively private portion of the march. What in the world did Lady Camilla's scary retainer need to talk to Laslow about?

As soon as they were out of most everyone's earshot, Laslow opened cautiously with, "What can I do for you, Beruka, my dear?"

The assassin fixed him in a cold stare.

"Beruka?" he amended.

She smirked—and even that was a small, underused thing she likely learned from Niles. "If I say 'Chrom,'" she began, "do you know whom I mean?"

The name was like a blow to Laslow's ribs. "Of course," he managed.

"Right then." Beruka nodded smartly. "I think Selena ran because of him. He's Odin's uncle, correct?"

Laslow nodded, first slowly, and then a bit more firmly. He looked dazed.

"Selena also said her mother was in love with this Chrom, but ended up marrying her father instead. Is this correct?"

Again, Laslow nodded with that far-off look in his eyes. Beruka had never seen the man so lost.

"Then Selena simply remembered the family line, and bolted."

"But how would she…?" Laslow blinked—once, twice, thrice—and then said, almost as if cursing it, "The _Brand!"_

Beruka blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"There's a… tattoo that a lot of Odin's family gets when they come of age." It was as close to the truth as Laslow was willing to come. "Odin has it. His uncle Chrom has it. His aunt Emmeryn had it. His cousin Lucina even has it. I bet Selena noticed it after the fact, and panicked."

Beruka nodded, quickly digesting this information. "I agree. That sounds rash enough to be Selena."

Laslow huffed a tired sigh. "Well, at least we know the 'why,' even if it doesn't help the 'what.'" He squared his shoulders and flashed her a dazzling grin, and it suddenly occurred to Beruka that he might do that sort of thing on purpose, and not just because he was a womanizing git. "Thank you, Beruka, my… friend."

 _Friend?_ The word didn't process. He was trying not to call her dear, or darling, or dove, or any of the million other pet names he used for every woman from Peri to Lady Camilla, so Beruka could at least latch on to that. It was appreciated.

"I'm a professional," Beruka said. "It's what I do."

A silence descended, not quite pleasant, not quite unpleasant.

"We'll settle your debt when the time comes," Beruka added after a moment.

"I've no doubt." Something occurred to Laslow. "Does Lady Camilla know?"

Beruka stiffened. "Yes. Though I'm not sure how."

Laslow winced in solidarity. He shuddered to think of Lord Xander's response if the Crown Prince ever discovered the secrets his retainer was keeping from him. "Will you be sent off to the villas, then?"

Beruka's face twisted, just barely enough to notice. "Don't say such things."

"And I'd imagine Niles would still be with Lord Leo at Castle Krakenburg and the astral castle," Laslow said, tapping his chin in thought.

That particular thought had never occurred to Beruka, either. If she were sent to the royal family's villas as punishment for daring to become pregnant (as if it were a thing she could necessarily prevent), Niles would likely be enduring everyone's ire back at the castle alone, just as she would be enduring a difficult pregnancy, alone.

She shuddered.

"I don't think it would come to that, though," Laslow added hurriedly. "You know more about assassination than anyone else except maybe Kaze, and we're in the middle of a war. Even if you can't literally fight alongside her, Lady Camilla knows you're too valuable an asset to send off to time out like an unruly child."

It was, quite possibly, the nicest thing anyone had ever said about her, and Beruka had no idea how to process it.

"So try not to worry," Laslow added with a smile, when Beruka said nothing.

"Right," said Beruka, blinking something out of her eye.


	39. Chapter 39

The Key Dragons arrived at the Bottomless Canyon just as the winds of the last few days kicked up to storm-worthy. The rickety wooden bridge would have seemed desolate enough, stretched out across eternity like it was, even without the threat of lashing rain and lightning.

Even without a very grim-faced Lord Leo of Nohr, flanked by a rather sedate Lady Elise and taciturn Lady Azura, seated atop his horse and leering down at any who dared come toward him.

" _Leo!"_ Camilla had shouted in relief, charging up the hill and pulling the younger prince into a fierce hug sideways across his horse.

"Sister!" Leo had spluttered, any trace of drama gone. "Sister, you'll pull the saddle loose!"

Camilla had begrudgingly let him go, grumbling all the while, whereas Xander had reached his siblings and immediately asked, "What's happened?"

Elise had then unwrapped the cloth from around the package she'd been twisting in her hands, and thrust Xander's wrought-iron circlet into his grasp. To their left, Azura had delicately unwrapped the cloth from Camilla's wyvern-horned circlet and held it out to the princess, as well.

"Iago is on his way," Leo had said. "We're out of time."

-)

Xander and Leo now sat stiff-backed atop their horses, blond hair fluttering in the driving winds, the collars on their black-and-purple armor rippling alongside. Camilla, once more in her ebony black, daringly-cut armor, was beginning her ascent onto Ilse's back. Her hair remained tightly bound in its braid ("Nothing to be done about it now," she had said). Corrin simply stared moodily across the Bottomless Canyon, saying nothing, doing nothing, her feet once again bare in her grey-and-navy armor.

 _Gods,_ Xander thought, praying as fervently as he perhaps ever had, _if you're listening, please let this work._

There hadn't been time to send the Hoshidans away proper, no time to drop into the astral planes and put this whole business behind them. So Xander and Leo had put their heads together to devise a plan that put the two royal families within spitting distance of each other and didn't involve combat.

Would Iago see through it? Through _him?_ Acting had never been one of Xander's talents, preferring pointed silences and gritted teeth to outright lies (which, depending on his father's mood, could be seen as anything from insubordination to outright treason).

Hoof beats brought Xander's focus sharply forward. Elise was hurrying her old mare across the bridge, her expression deathly serious. _Her horsemanship has improved,_ Xander thought, somewhat idly. He wondered whom she'd been training with in his absence. Leo? Silas? Or perhaps Gunter?

"They said they're ready," Elsie said as she approached, trying to mask her unease with little success. She hadn't yet perfected the Nohrian art, as her older siblings had.

"Capital," Xander said. "Leo, what's the situation with Iago?"

Leo glanced to the pale sun above, just barely visible through the clouds, while Elise took up position behind her older brothers. "Nyx's communication put him here around three in the afternoon," Leo said after a moment. "Which should be just about now."

From atop her wyvern, Camilla snorted. "Ah, of course. Iago was always showing up just as everyone else was sitting down to tea."

Elise and Corrin both cracked tired smiles, but Xander and Leo both remained impassive.

"Shall we get started?" Leo asked. He hadn't quite understood his older siblings' sudden insistence that they not come to blows with the Hoshidans today, but he supposed that temporary truces had a way of producing such things.

Xander nodded sharply, and Leo was relieved to see the bits of Nohrian General creeping back into the Crown Prince. He would need it. "Give the signal, brother."

Leo opened Brynhildr, his beloved spellbook, and balanced it atop his palm. He narrowed his eyes, extended his other hand, and concentrated on the space just in front of the bridge on the Hoshidan side.

A moment later, roots sprang from the barren ground, shooting upward to form a great, twisted tree. A few moments after that, the roots and branches receded, leaving unbroken ground behind them.

Leo opened his eyes fully, and snapped Brynhildr shut again. "Let's hope they're paying attention."

-)

It didn't take long.

A short while after Leo sent up Brynhildr's earthen magic, Kaze had arrived with a missive from Iago. "He's arrived and wishes to speak with you, milord. Your father's orders."

"Tell Iago I'm terribly sorry," Xander had said without a trace of apology in his tone, "but he'll have to wait for me to finish dealing with Lord Ryoma."

They were words crafted to bring the mage running, and they would serve their purpose well. Kaze lowered himself into a stiff-backed, Hoshidan, bow, and retreated back the way he'd come. Xander had always thought it would never settle his stomach, having a ninja in their employ, but he'd begun barely sparing it a second thought lately.

A few more minutes, and Xander could just begin to make out the faintest outlines of three approaching figures. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he drew himself up just _that_ much straighter. _This is as much for their sake as yours._

It was followed by a quieter, angrier voice in the back of his mind: _A honest fight, my_

 _ass._ That was what he had told Leo, when his brother had questioned just why, exactly, he cared so much to see the Hoshidans walk away with their heads. _They deserve an honest fight. None of Iago's tricks, and without forcing my hand._ He knew Leo wasn't completely convinced, but also knew it was too late to change anything now.

The barrel-chested, wild-haired form of Lord Ryoma began to coalesce through the gloom. Someone had either rustled up his ceremonial armor, or a damn good illusion, because the man making his way to the bridge was not the laid-back samurai Xander had come to call friend over the last month or so.

No, this was the red-armored, grim-faced High Prince of Hoshido.

Beside him strode an equally grim-faced Lord Takumi. Xander could just make out the celestial bowstring of the Fujin Yumi glittering through the gloom, and the unnatural light cast a pale luminescence over the younger prince. Had he always looked so sickly? Or was that the rain, playing tricks on him?

For a moment, Xander's heart clenched. Where was Hinoka? Should she not have come to the "parley" with her brothers? Would Ryoma have sent her back home already, since Akatsuki could bring news faster than the rest of them? That hardly sounded like the High Prince, let alone his younger sister, but Xander supposed anything was possible, now that he was "Nohrian" again.

A moment later, Xander realized he needn't have worried—for that's what that was, he was very much aware—because a slender figure with violently red hair was just coming up over the ridge astride a pegasus that was somehow gleaming white even in the driving rain.

Xander tore his eyes away from the approaching party, and instead took stock of his siblings. Camilla needed little more than a nod from him to urge Ilse into flight, and the wyvern took off sharply forward. The dive Camilla took into the Bottomless Canyon made Xander's head spin, but woman and wyvern rose into the sky a few moments later, hardly worse for wear.

Leo's fingers were tense on Brynhildr's spine, and the rain had soaked into his hair and slashed it across his eyes. The young mage appeared not to notice, he was so focused on the opposing side. Xander wondered, somewhat absentmindedly, just when his little brother had become a man.

Elise was fidgeting in her saddle, just as she had when the stablemaster's riding lessons had gone on too long. Her healing staff was nestled in its special loop beside her right leg, within easy reach should she need it, but leaving her hands free to command the old mare.

Not for the first time, Xander's instinct was to get Elise out of there, posthaste. She was too young for such things, too innocent, too unsullied. She didn't need to see such things, not when he and Camilla could protect her from them.

But such instincts had made Corrin into the woman who had nearly blown their cover multiple times, who had almost died in a textbook standoff, who was caught between worlds and families and expectations.

And so Xander stayed his command, and instead issued another: "Leo, Corrin, guard my back. Elise, with me."

At once, Leo nodded—"Of course."—but Corrin visibly bristled. She opened her mouth to say something, but the Crown Prince was no longer looking at her.

They met in the middle of the rickety wooden bridge, the High Prince of Hoshido and the Crown Prince of Nohr. Had they really been friends, not so long ago? Had Ryoma truly shook his hand so warmly, when they had said their proper good byes, earlier? It felt like a lifetime ago that Xander had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the samurai, shared a drink and a laugh, and a sister.

Xander forced himself to leer down his nose at the man he had only this morning called friend, and drew on all twenty-odd years of his royal bearing to do so.

"Nohrian General!" Ryoma roared over the rising storm. "I have come to parley with your Prince!"

"Speak, then!" Xander shouted back, feeling his spine stiffen in accordance with his station. "You have his ear!"

Ryoma's bristling at Xander's tone was all too real. "You have heard, I presume, of the incident in Xumay?"

Xander's hands tightened on the reins. "Enlighten me."

"Would that I could," said Ryoma sharply. "But, concerning Xumay, it seems that your typical bar brawl ended abruptly when one of the combatants _turned into a dragon."_

From behind Xander's shoulder, Elise's jaw dropped. Not only had Lord Ryoma just insulted her big brother, but the only person Elise knew or knew of that could turn into a dragon was Corrin. She forced herself not to turn around and look at her big sister. Xander would be furious if she did.

"And so your first thought was _us?"_ Xander said, acid in his tone.

At that moment, Camilla pulled up beside her brother, ever his left hand. Ilse struggled to hover in place, buffeted by the storm winds and rain, but Camilla's face could have been etched from stone, for all it moved.

"Lord Ryoma," she said with false airiness, "do you mean to imply that you believe the Nohrian royal family can turn into _dragons?"_

Ryoma shifted from one foot to another. He and Camilla both knew that exact fact to be true, and yet she made it sound so _absurd._ Had she always been so patronizing? He'd known to expect it from Xander, who was playing his part masterfully, but _Camilla?_ Who had hugged him so fiercely just hours ago, and told him to watch himself?

"It's not a known trait of the Dawn Dragon's line," Ryoma began, "but I know not _your_ family workings."

Hinoka, seemingly not to be outdone by the elder Nohrian princess, pulled up alongside Ryoma in an exact mirror of the Nohrians' array. Akatsuki fared little better than Ilse in the buffeting wind and rain, but Hinoka's stubborn grin showed no sign of anything but determination and contempt.

"Clearly," Xander said brusquely, sparing a blasé glance toward the pegasus knight that sent a stabbing ache into his chest. "Else you would know my family has been busy beating back yours on all fronts."

Akatsuki positively _growled,_ if a horse could be said to do such a thing, while Hinoka grit her teeth and spat, "Nohrian scum!"

And _oh,_ how it hurt her heart. Xander had tired to shake her hand earlier when he'd said (a rather stiff) goodbye, but Hinoka'd had none of it. She'd drawn him into a hug just as ferocious as she'd given Corrin, trying to convey all of the things she couldn't say to him, for whatever reason. _I'm so sorry. I wish things were different. Don't let the bastards get you down. I'll see you again soon?_

"On all fronts?" Ryoma repeated, laughter in his voice. "You're mistaken. I seem to recall killing King Garon's retainer in Yokotoro."

"Dastard!" Camilla snarled.

"Calm yourself, sister," Xander said to Camilla before turning back to face Ryoma and Hinoka. "Hans is no great loss."

Again, Elise's jaw dropped. Lord Ryoma had killed Hans? (It couldn't be Iago, after all.) Xander didn't have to deal with that brutal idiot any more? No more pretending to listen to his ideas and trying to circumvent his damages? Elise would have hugged the big, imposing High Prince, if she could.

A faint smile curled across Xander's lips, as cruel and calculating as his father's. "Let the Hoshidan prince revel in his hollow victory."

"Have some damn respect!" Hinoka barked.

"And you, as well!" Camilla snapped.

It all felt so _wrong._

Takumi watched his older siblings bicker with the Nohrians from his position on the Hoshidan side of the Bottomless Canyon. _Dawn Dragon,_ his head was killing him. And while he understood the necessity of getting out from under this Iago's gaze, Takumi couldn't help but figure that getting as far away from the Bottomless Canyon as physically possible would have been the smarter move, rather than risk Iago getting shots in at his older siblings. He wouldn't say that he _didn't_ trust Xander to know what all King Garon's retainers were capable of, but it certainly seemed rather like painting targets on their backs.

Although, Takumi supposed, they already had them, so what was the harm in arguing under a white flag to disguise their truce and bury it, to boot?

The pain between his eyes bloomed, and Takumi grit his teeth against it. Maybe he _should_ have asked Xander what the older man did to combat migraines, if only for moments like this. Despite himself, Takumi glanced to the High Prince of Nohr, specifically. His face seemed somehow more and less severe, with his hair its natural blond, and atop his warhorse, he was once again the man who had taken Corrin from them a second time.

Fury burst into Takumi's gut, bright and wild, and he found himself drawing the Fujin Yumi without conscious thought. He pulled the ethereal bowstring taut, and the matching arrow flared to life at the winged notch. He focused intensely on Xander, knowing that one shot to that unarmored head would probably do the trick.

Just as moved to release it, thorny branches sprang up from nowhere, grasping the arrow and—somehow—snapping it in half. Takumi squinted across the canyon at the younger Nohrian prince, only to find him starting right back, hand outstretched and spellbook open.

"Some truce you've made, brother," Leo called out.

Xander looked across the Hoshidan royal family—from Ryoma, with his wild mane and stern expression, to Hinoka, with her quick wit and lean frame, to Takumi, with his pale hair shining and archer's pose perfect, and back again—with genuine hurt in his eyes. It was quickly snuffed out by betrayal, and then… nothingness.

"Indeed," he managed.

Ryoma may have been appalled at his younger brother, but Hinoka was absolutely gutted. "Takumi!" She shouted, whirling Akatsuki around to speed across the Bottomless Canyon and block further shots from the archer. "We are under the _white flag!"_ Whatever else came after was lost to Xander; she'd broken into Hoshidan.

Xander felt hollow. It had been a pipe dream, really. To think, that Nohrians and Hoshidans could get along for any real amount of time. To think, that Corrin could have drawn them together and bound them there. To think, that he and Hinoka—

 _It doesn't matter._

"We are finished, here," Xander said. He tugged on Siegmund's reins, and the warhorse began walking in reverse, so that Xander retained eye contact with Ryoma.

"You'll have to excuse my brother," Ryoma said, fighting the desperation in his gut. "He's apparently not himself, today."

"A king without command of his subjects," Xander began hoarsely, "is no king."

 _I thought you my equal, Ryoma. My_ friend _. Was I wrong?_

"What a—!" Ryoma began, only to be cut off when Camilla landed Ilse directly between the two princes. The bridge across the Bottomless Canyon rocked dangerously with the added weight of the monstrous wyvern.

"My brother," she said, her voice choked in grief, "has said we are _finished."_

With Camilla covering his back, Xander maneuvered Siegmund around to properly retreat back to the Nohrian side of the canyon. Elise's mare picked up speed beside him.

"See to yours," Camilla added. "And do not expect a truce again."

Across the Bottomless Canyon, Hinoka had dismounted and was shaking Takumi by the shoulders. Tears streamed down her face, lost in the rain. " _Takumi,"_ she said in Hoshidan, " _Takumi, why would you do this?"_

Takumi stared down at the Fujin Yumi in his hands, inert for the moment and little more than a curved bludgeon, but the winged artifact held no answers. " _I don't know,"_ he said, shakily.

" _You've ruined everything!"_

Iago was waiting for Xander the instant he reached the Nohrian side. "Milord, are you alright?" The smarmy mage was sycophantic as ever, his half-masked faced betraying nothing.

"Perfectly fine," Xander said brusquely, without looking at Iago. "Did you not witness Leo's quick thinking?"

"Erm, yes." Iago coughed. "A brilliant boy, King Garon's younger son."

Xander finally turned to look at Iago, his glare positively withering. "Did you _need_ something, Iago?"

"Why yes, I did," said Iago shortly. "I've come to speak with you on the latest reports of the war." Which, having been in Hoshido for the last month, Xander was acutely aware that he did not know.

He turned Siegmund to fully face Iago now, fury kindling in his eyes. "Let me see if I have this," said the Crown Prince, "you left my father's side, in wartime, when his other retainer was recently killed, to seek me out at the Bottomless Canyon, for something that _could have been a missive?"_

"Milord!" said Iago, shocked at the whelp's tone. "This is a very delicate matter! Missives can always be intercepted, and there have been some _disturbing_ rumors regarding you as of late. King Garon simply wanted the facts, and your next visit to Castle Krakenburg is not scheduled for months."

Xander's deeply brown eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Iago could see his father in him. "This is beneath me," Xander barked. "Leo!"

At once, the younger prince appeared at his side. Leo's wary gaze missed nothing, and certainly not the emotions boiling over in his brother. "Yes, Xander?"

"Kindly talk Iago through whatever it is he wishes to know," Xander said. "There are other matters which demand my attention."

"Of course." Leo nodded, and then turned to Iago's spluttering form. "If you'd come with me, Iago, we can speak in my tent, where it's dry." Leo couldn't resist adding, "It's getting to be about teatime."

But Iago was not paying Leo any attention. "Your father will hear about this!" he shouted at Xander's back.

"My father will agree with me!" Xander roared over his shoulder.

He knew he would pay for dismissing Iago, but Xander couldn't find it in him to care. All he wanted was to curl up somewhere warm and dry to regroup, although he knew that was a luxury he could ill afford. He forced himself to straighten his back as he rode into the camp that the retainers had set up during the planning and that gods-awful "parley" on the bridge. He knew all eyes would be upon him, as ever.

He gave Siegmund over to Silas, who had come alongside Leo's party and was currently tending to the stables. The silver-haired knight, normally gregarious and outgoing, had opened his mouth to say something and immediately shut it, upon seeing the Crown Prince's stormy expression.

Across the camp, Xander was relieved to find that Laslow and Peri had set up his tent, and he offered them silent thanks, wherever they were. Likely together. They had become inseparable lately, and Xander was glad for it—even if it currently made his chest hurt.

He ducked under the tent flap, and found a small lantern going and dry clothes set out for him on his cot. Xander collapsed onto the cot, not taking off his armor but instead his crown, and stared at the wrought iron in his hands for a long moment.

And then, unbeknownst to the world outside, the Crown Prince of Nohr buried his head in his hands, and began to quietly weep.

-)

 **Ren Gade: I'm glad you're enjoying my work! that poetry took forever**


	40. Chapter 40

The astral plane had never been the most welcoming of places, but right now, Xander could think of nowhere else he'd rather be. The war camp was bustling, his duties all-consuming, and his sleepless nights, unnoticed.

"Mostly," Leo was saying as he sat with his younger brother in the library, "the war's been consisting of border skirmishes. We can't really get a foothold in Hoshido. And then there was the incident where Hans was killed in Yokotoro. That's one of the rumors Iago wanted to ask me about—did Lord Ryoma really defeat him there?"

"No," Xander said hoarsely. "I did. Lord Ryoma was simply covering for me. But let's have the truth die to history, shall we?"

Leo paused in his notes, looking up from the parchment to his brother's tired, war-worn face. He took a breath to steel himself, and asked, "Are you alright, Xander?"

"Fine," said the man automatically.

Leo made a show of looking over one shoulder, than the other. "Xander, it's _me."_

Xander sighed, and pressed his fingers into his temples. He seemed to have a constant migraine, these days. "I'm not sleeping well, Leo. That's all."

Leo glanced around again before he said, "Bull _shit._ You seem… hollow, Xander."

Xander sighed, and his hand thumped against the table. "And why wouldn't I? I thought I'd made friends, and one of them tried to kill me." He snorted derisively, at himself. "Stupid."

"It's hard not to make friends with people you're fighting beside," Leo offered. "We're kind of wired to. It would be like not noticing a pretty girl."

Unbidden, Xander's thoughts went to Hinoka, and then Corrin, and then his migraine worsened.

"It's automatic," Leo continued, unaware of his older brother's headache.

"You know," Xander said, "these facts of yours are never comforting."

"Facts aren't supposed to be comforting," Leo said. "They're just fact."

"Some facts are comforting," Xander said. "Like how no matter what happens, I'll face it with you, and Camilla, and Elise."

"For now, anyway," Leo said, sadness tingeing his voice.

"Now, see _that_ ," Xander said, "is not a comforting fact."

"We're in war," Leo said. "We have to consider all of the possibilities." He paused. "You forgot Corrin."

Xander's brow furrowed. "Did I?"

"Yeah," Leo said. "You said Camilla, and Elise, and me."

"Oh." Xander's face pinched. "I see."

"Brother," Leo said tentatively, "are you… _mad_ at Corrin?"

Xander sighed. "I suppose. You heard about everything she pulled in Hoshido, yes?"

"Yes," Leo said, "and I particularly have to agree with Lord Takumi. Turning into a dragon was just _stupid."_

"As was following the beggar up the mountainside, and meeting with the Hoshidans in the first place." Xander ran a tired hand through his hair. Without Leo's quick illusion, the blond was growing naturally, which mean that he was unfortunately half-brunet for the moment. "Leo… have I failed her, somehow?"

Leo paused to consider the question for a long moment. "I don't think so," he finally said. "You simply can't undo all that time at the Northern Fortress, maybe ever."

"Hmm," said Xander. A moment later, he added, "Do you have any other un-comforting facts I should know about?"

Leo laughed, although he still considered the question. "Not that I can think of. Oh! Some wyverns will sometimes eat their own young, when food is scarce."

Xander refrained from making a joke about their father.

-)

"Corrin, darling," Camilla said over tea that same afternoon, "you seem distracted. Whatever is the matter?"

Corrin stared into her teacup, unblinking. She remained silent for so long, Camilla nearly asked the question again. But then Corrin said, in a very small voice, "Camilla… why would he do that?"

"Hmm?" Camilla eyed her little sister over the rim of her teacup. "Why would who do what, darling?"

"Takumi," Corrin said. "Why would Takumi try to kill Xander?"

Camilla sighed, and set down her teacup. "Because we're his enemy, Corrin dear." She tried to squeeze her sister's hands, but Corrin wouldn't let her, instead withdrawing them to her lap when Camilla's came near. "I can't even blame him for what he did. I'm furious, certainly, but so far as military logic is concerned, it was perfectly sound."

"But we were under the white flag!" Corrin protested.

"And what a pretty one it was," Camilla replied callously. "The truth of the matter is, Corrin, there are very few people in this world you can trust. The sooner you learn that, the safer you'll be."

Corrin huffed. "You sound like Xander."

"And have you ever stopped to wonder why he's so withdrawn? So distant? Why he hardly confides even in his siblings?"

Corrin blinked a few times. "Is… is he like that with you all, too?"

Camilla could have smacked her. Why did her darling little sister have to be so _dense?_ "Of course he is," she said with forced calm. "Ask Elise about the Xander she remembers growing up, and how he is now."

Corrin's heart twisted painfully. It seemed she didn't know any of her siblings at all, Hoshidan _or_ Nohrian. She squeezed her eyes shut against the breaking of her heart.

"There, there," Camilla said softly, leaning across the table to pat the top of Corrin's head and smooth down her hair to the side of her face. "We protected you from these things on purpose."

"For all the good it did me," Corrin snapped. "Father… King Garon… he didn't keep me locked up for my health, Camilla! He wanted… he wanted…" She struggled to find the words. "He wanted… to _use me._ And he was just waiting until he found where."

Camilla's instinct was to pat Corrin's head again, but she knew at this particular moment, it was unwelcome. So she instead settled for a sympathetic smile. "He wants to use all of us, darling. That's all we are to him: pawns." Another thought occurred to Camilla. "What all does this have to do with Takumi?"

Camilla expected Corrin to say something along the lines of _it doesn't; you changed the subject,_ but she didn't. Instead, the dragon woman withdrew even further into herself and said, so quietly Camilla had to strain across the table to hear her, "Ryoma told me I'm not their sibling."

Camilla recoiled, taken aback. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

"I'm not their sibling," Corrin said, a little louder this time. "He said my mother Mikoto showed up one day at Castle Shirasagi _with me."_ Corrin brought her arms together as if holding a child. "King Sumeragi and Queen Ikona took her in, and… And…" Corrin burst into tears.

Camilla stood from her chair to come around the table. She drew Corrin into a fierce hug, and the younger woman cried into her shoulder in a way she hadn't since they were children.

"Chin up, Corrin dear," Camilla said after a long moment. "We aren't your siblings, either, and we—"

"And that's the whole bloody point, isn't it?" Corrin forced herself back from the table and Camilla, pushing so hard she made the teacups rock. "I'm _not_ Nohrian, and I'm _not_ Hoshidan. So what bloody am I?"

Camilla heart ached. "You're Corrin. Our sister."

" _No,_ I'm _not,"_ Corrin shouted back, already on her way out the door. "Weren't you _listening?"_

"Corrin!" Camilla shouted, hiking up her skirts and taking off after her.

Only to immediately lose her to the sheer chaos of the astral plane castle. There were friends and allies everywhere, no shortage of trees and bushes to hide behind, and constant motion. Camilla huffed an irritated grunt as she quickly lost sigh of the blue-haired woman.

"Camilla?" Xander's face cut in to her rising ire. "Was that Corrin who took off just now?"

Camilla huffed—"Yes, unfortunately."—and quickly relayed the events of this afternoon's tea.

Xander nodded solemnly throughout, but did not seem nearly so shocked at Corrin's revelation as she had. And when Camilla pointed that out, his face grew pensive. "It's possible that she's their half sibling," Xander said. "Lady Hinoka mentioned that King Sumeragi had an affair under Queen Ikona's nose…"

Camilla recoiled in genuine shock. " _That's_ news to me."

"Was to me, too."

Camilla sighed. "We should look for her."

Xander nodded, at once in motion. "You take Lilith's temple, I'll take the forest?"

-)

Honestly, Xander had figured that Corrin would be hiding out in Lilith's temple. That was ordinarily where his younger sister went to go lick her wounds when someone snapped at her in the war council meetings, or Niles' teasing got the better of her. He genuinely had not expected to find the glint of silver armor hiding in a mulberry tree.

"Found you, little princess." The nickname was sour on his tongue.

"Go away," Corrin barked from her perch overhead.

Xander came to a stop just below the mulberry tree, his hands coming to rest at the small of his back. "No."

"I don't want to talk to you!"

"Fine, then," Xander said. "I'll just talk to you."

He heard an annoyed huff from above, and had to stifle a snort.

"Camilla told me what you told her," Xander continued. "And I think Lord Ryoma may be mistaken."

More rustling from above, and he felt a set of curious red eyes bore into him. _That got your attention, 'ey Corrin?_

So he continued. "Lady Hinoka mentioned that King Sumeragi had an affair. For all we know, your mother could simply have been bringing you to castle Shirasagi to present you to your father."

The red eyes retreated. "So that makes me a _bastard,_ then. Great."

"Oh, please," said Xander dismissively. "By that logic, Camilla, Leo, and Elise are all bastards."

"Maybe just Leo," Corrin said after a moment.

Xander didn't dignify that with a response, but he _did_ snort. "You're still our sister, Corrin. And I'm certain…" He paused.

The silence stretched between them, like the taffy the servants would pull for Yule every year.

"You're certain what?" Corrin prodded.

Xander drew in a breath, feeling a stabbing sensation beneath his ribs. "I'm certain that the Hoshidans think of you the same way. Now, will you _please_ come down from there? This is absurd." Not to mention, he was getting a crick in his neck.

There was some shuffling in the mulberry tree, and then Corrin said, embarrassedly, "I can't."

Xander blinked, sure he'd misheard her. "Beg pardon?"

"I'm serious! I got up here just fine, but… I can't…" Corrin's bare foot appeared in the branches above him, and sure enough, didn't quite reach far enough to the branch below.

Xander heaved the very put-upon sigh of the older brother. "Corrin, _what_ are we going to do with you?"

"Catch me when I drop down?" she put forward hopefully. "You know, like when I was little?"

Xander paused. "Are you sure you _want_ that?"

"More than than falling fifteen feet straight down!"

"Fine." Xander cracked his neck first one way, and then the other. "Let me know when you're letting go."

"Okay." Corrin drew in a breath. "Three, two… one!"

It seemed like Corrin had barely left the branches of the mulberry tree when she crashed into her older brother's outstretched arms. Their armor clanged together painfully, knocking the wind out of Xander and rattling Corrin's teeth. But they didn't topple over, which Corrin considered to be a victory.

Xander set her back on her feet as he struggled to catch his breath. He pressed his fist into his sternum and coughed, and Corrin watched the whole display with a critical eye. "Are you alright?"

Xander laughed, but it came out as more of a wheeze. "It's a little more difficult these days." Another cough. "You're not eight anymore, Corrin. Or I'm not fifteen. Whichever direction you wish to look at it."

Corrin made a face while she continued to study him. "Are you _sure_ you're feeling okay, Xander?"

"Hmm?" Xander cocked an eyebrow in her direction. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I don't know, you seem less… stiff, I guess?"

"Do I?" There was genuine surprise in his voice.

"Yeah." Testing the waters, Corrin drew a few steps closer, only to have Xander take the same amount of steps back, without even conscious effort, to maintain a proper distance between them. She smiled, faintly. "Whatever else happened, I think Hoshido was good for you, big brother."

Xander's face shut down hard, turning completely to stone, and Corrin immediately regretted her words. "I do believe I've heard enough for today."

Oh, _Dusk Dragon,_ he'd even resorted to _that_ voice. The one he used in court, and on the battlefield, and when Elise absolutely refused to go to bed when she was little. Xander had never, in Corrin's entire memory, used that voice on _her._ It was a jarring, almost painful reminder that whatever else he may have been—and Xander was a lot of things—he was the Crown Prince, and his word was law in the absence of King Garon.

"Xander," Corrin said, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I'm not Camilla, Corrin," Xander said sternly. "Crocodile tears will not help you. Though speaking of our sister, you ought to seek her out and apologize for running out on her, earlier."

" _I_ should apologize!?" Corrin squawked.

"Camilla wants nothing but your happiness and safety," Xander said. "If she was less than artful in attempting to bring it about, then you owe it to your relationship to tell her so and clear the air, and apologize for acting like a child."

"How dare you!" Corrin shouted. "You haven't any idea what I feel!"

"You're correct," Xander countered, "I don't—but only because instead of using your words, you continue to run and hide."

"I'm not running and hiding!" Corrin said, although her face burned with shame since that was _exactly_ what she had done.

Xander folded his arms across his broad chest, fixed her in a patient stare, and waited.

Corrin wanted to scream, to tell him he wasn't being fair, to mope and pity herself and whatever else she had planned to do in that tree (she wasn't exactly sure), but with an accusation like _you're acting like a child,_ she could hardly do that, now could she? Was this what it was like having Xander to parent you? Ugh, he was exhausting.

"I'll go talk to Camilla," Corrin groused, turning towards camp and doing her best not to stomp.

"Good," said Xander, unfolding his arms and taking up pace beside her. "Although, Corrin, a word to the wise?"

Corrin sighed. "Yes?"

"Try not to climb any more trees when you're upset? I may not always be around to catch you when you fall."

 **-)**

 **surprise! Cha girl had to take a sick day from work, so what else is there to do?** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **Anyway:**

 **Guest: When is it not Takumi's fault?**

 **Anonymous: thanks! Glad you're enjoying my work :)**

 **Guest #2: Serious, and melodramatic. As per Nohrian tradition**

 **Temporal King: I missed them, too. And don't be so quick to assume that it'll be the Conquest route :p It's more of an alternate universe, if anything**


	41. Chapter 41

These war maps would be the death of him.

Not the war, mind, but the _maps._ Xander was beyond tired of looking at these damned maps. No matter how many times he moved the little figurines, the outcomes were always the same. Either he calculated based on the Nohrians' overwhelming numbers and cavalry, or he calculated with the Hoshidans' talent for subterfuge and ninja, and one side or the other ended the war in a landslide victory.

It was the world's most uncomfortable stalemate.

"Xander, are you busy?"

The Crown Prince glanced up from his war table maps, only to find his youngest sister staring at him expectantly from across the table. She was bouncing on her heels, trying very much not to seem as anxious as she was.

Xander opted for honesty. "No more than usual. What can I do for you?"

Elise shuffled from one foot to the other. "Are you happy for Laslow and Peri?"

Xander recoiled in genuine surprise. This was not where he'd figured this was going in the slightest. "Of course I am." And it was true, no matter how much their happiness currently stabbed his own heart. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Because I remember when Arthur and Effie got married, I started feeling lonely." Elise offered a sad smile. "They were together a lot, and they made each other really happy, so I was happy for them, but they were my friends too, you know? And then I started feeling..." Elise searched for a word, and then shrugged. "…like they didn't need me, I guess."

Xander studied his little sister for a long moment. She had always been the most perceptive of his siblings, but also the most peace-loving. Where had she found the courage to just… talk to him like this? She'd said once (to Camilla, of course, who had later told him), that the only person she was more afraid of disappointing than King Garon was Xander.

"I appreciate your concern," Xander said, feeling oddly touched, "but I'm fine."

"I knew you'd say that," Elise mumbled.

Xander laughed, just a little. He really out to think about switching out his tactics. "Think of it this way, Elise," he said. "If I truly had a problem with it, do you think I would have encouraged them?"

"That's not fair," Elise argued. "You wouldn't think of yourself as a good enough reason."

"I'm not," Xander countered. "I may be their employer, but they do have lives besides me, you know."

Elise shot him a look that asked 'are you an idiot?' without the requisite words. It was identical to Camilla's. "You're their _friend,_ Xander, not just their liege. It's okay if you're feeling left out."

"I suppose," Xander said, "but I'm not."

Elise's face pinched, and Xander had to actively bite back a laugh. Anger just did not suit her delicate facial features. "Well, promise me you'll tell me if you start?" Elise pressed.

Xander heaved the put-upon sigh of the older brother. "I promise."

Elise's eyes narrowed—"Pinky promise?"—and she stuck out her hand, little finger sticking out.

"Oh, Dusk Dragon, _fine,"_ Xander said, laughing as he extended his own hand, also with his pinky out.

Elise locked their fingers, and Xander couldn't help but notice that her hand was no longer comically dwarfed by his own. Her face had dropped its mimicked sternness, and she was smiling again. Truly, the youngest princess was a ray of sunshine in the darkest pits of night.

Or Castle Krakenburg.

"Have you grown since we left?" Xander inquired.

Elise's head bobbed excitedly, her pigtails bouncing alongside. "I did! Effie measured me the other day, and I'm almost as tall as Beruka!"

Who was, unfortunately, the shortest adult in their employ by a wide margin. Xander politely did not bring that up. "Congratulations," he said instead, grinning.

"I'm catching up to you!" Elise paused. "Well, okay, maybe to Leo."

"Whatever will he do?" Xander joked, turning back to his maps.

He had assumed this to be the end of the conversation, but Elise's presence still registered at the edge of his vision. She was not leaving, and yet saying nothing. _Curious._ Xander glanced up from the war table maps.

"Did you need something further, Elise?"

"Um," she said articulately.

Xander folded his arms across his chest, fixed her in a patient, vaguely reproving stare, and waited.

Elise never held up long under the Dad Stare, as she'd called it even when they were small. After a few more moments, she blurted out, "Niles asked me to teach him how to use a staff."

Xander's first instinct was "You will do no such thing; that is _clearly_ a euphemism."

Scarlet bloomed across Elise's fair complexion. "No, no, no! Like a _healing_ staff, Xander!"

Xander paused, digesting this information. They were always in need of another healer, but Niles hardly seemed the type. "Did he mention why?"

Elise nodded impatiently. "He said something had happened to Beruka in Hoshido, and he wanted to make sure it would never happen again."

"How oddly wholesome," Xander remarked.

He recalled, of course, the night the Crescent Butchers attacked. He could still see Beruka, pale as death's rider, leaning up against that tree in his mind's eye. Niles _had_ hovered over her that entire evening, now that he thought on it, and the archer had watched the priestess' ministrations with lightning focus. Xander had assumed it was to ensure Beruka's safety, but he supposed it were possible the man'd had an ulterior motive. He usually did.

There were a few Master Seals, languishing away in the chest at the foot of Xander's bed. No one had needed one since Corrin's ascension to noble proper, and if Niles were serious about this, such things could easily be arranged.

"And why not have Jacob or Felicia teach him?"

Elise shot Xander a look. "Jacob is too busy, and Felicia is scared of him!"

Xander sighed. He'd almost take the war maps over speaking with his younger brother's slimy retainer. "Tell Niles to come speak with me, then. We'll discuss it."

"I don't think he wanted to class up, Xander," Elise said quietly. "I think he just wants to help Beruka."

"And the best way to do that would be to class up," Xander reasoned. "Send him my way, Elise, if you would kindly."

Elise knew an order when she heard one.

-)

The Master Seal was sitting on the war table maps when Niles arrived.

The ancient magic diffused in the air, thick and cloying like incense. Master Seals were stable magic with volatile outcomes, and they made most people uneasy—Niles included. He had stolen a few of the things during his tenure as sneakthief, but he had never grown comfortable around them. They were worth a small fortune, and Niles had never known anyone who'd used one—right until Lord Leo had decided to up and hire him.

"You sent for me," Niles began cautiously, "Lord Xander?"

Xander was standing behind the war table, blond and imposing as ever. "I did, yes." He set down the figurine he'd been holding—a dragon, Niles couldn't help but note, that traditionally denoted the King of Nohr. "My youngest sister came by just now. Do you know what she said?"

Niles met Xander's steady gaze with one of his own. "I have an idea."

"Do you?" Xander cocked an eyebrow. "She said you wish to learn the healing arts. Is that correct?"

Niles' stomach dropped. He supposed he should have seen it coming, getting the royal family involved, but he had _rather_ wanted to keep his sudden interest in medicine on the down-low, lest his reputation—and by extension, Lord Leo's—suffer.

Niles resisted the urge to sigh. "It is."

"Then the reason you asked my sister for aid is self-evident. What is _not,_ however, is why you've taken a sudden interest in the healing arts." Xander's facial expression, _somehow_ , grew even stonier. "Which begs the question. I'm not a fool, Niles; I know your type and I know your ways…"

"Oh, do you?" Niles inputted. "What a bold presumption."

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Give me one good reason why I should trust my little sister within an inch of you."

Niles grew silent. It was a fair question and a blunt one, and deserved an honest answer. And it had been a _long_ time since Niles had given an honest answer.

"Beruka," he finally said, hoarsely.

"Beruka is not your wife," Xander returned. A lesser man might have been angry, but Xander seemed perfectly calm. "Nor will Lady Camilla allow for her to accept a contract on Lord Leo's retainer's head."

 _Try again_ remained unspoken.

"You misunderstand," Niles said, doing his damnedest to maintain eye contact. Shouldn't one eye have made this easier? "Beruka is the reason why I asked Lady Elise to teach me in her spare time."

Xander folded his arms across his broad chest, fixed the one-eyed archer in a patient, vaguely reproving stare, and waited.

Niles found himself blurting out, "She's pregnant, Lord Xander."

Xander's eyebrows shot up in shock before he quickly regained his composure. "Does Lady Camilla know?"

"I believe so, yes."

It only took Xander a moment to process this information, and then he had his decision. "You may inform Lady Elise that she may teach you, as her time allows."

Niles felt his lungs go up in relief, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he held. "Thank you, Lord Xander, I—"

"On two conditions."

Niles' jaw snapped shut with an audible clack.

"You are not to be alone with Elise. Arthur, Effie, or Odin are to be present at all times— _with no exceptions."_ Well hell, that wasn't so bad. Honestly, Niles had been expecting something more along the lines of—"Second, you are to march right to my brother when you are finished here and ask his permission to marry."

 _That._

"Am I understood?"

"Lord Xander," Niles began weakly, all the wind sucked out of his lungs, "you can't be serious."

" _There will be no bastards in my household,"_ Xander said sharply. "You are a royal retainer; you will behave as one. Now _am I_ understood?"

Niles bit back on his molars. "People like us don't marry."

"How bold a presumption."

Xander reached for the Master Seal and rolled it gently across the maps. The red gemstone in the center glowed eerily, even in perfectly mundane candlelight. The concentric, golden rings protecting it ended in two ornate handles, presumably where one was meant to hold on while the ancient magic did its duty.

"Have you ever used a Seal, Niles?" Xander inquired.

"Of course not." Niles shook his head, fighting the urge to back away from the thing.

Xander missed nothing. "They _are_ unsettling, yes. But not actively harmful."

"So the mages say." Niles still didn't take his eyes off the Master Seal on the table.

Xander repressed a sigh. "I know you love your secrets. Would it help if you told you that the rumors about me are true?"

 _Finally_ , the white-haired archer's gaze snapped from the ancient magic to the Crown Prince. "You mean to say, that your use of one of those godsforsaken things is what took you from a gangly sixteen year old to…" Niles looked Xander up and down in a manner that was borderline lewd and incredibly discomforting. "…a paladin?"

"With a lot of hard work, dedication, and a visit to the Rainbow Sage in the middle," Xander said brusquely, "but, yes, essentially."

"I knew that last growth spurt wasn't natural," Niles muttered, mostly to himself.

"Quite so," Xander agreed. "Now, what will it be?"

Niles grew uncharacteristically quiet as his gaze fell back upon the Master Seal. His ingrained reticence to the magic was waning, and Xander could practically see the foundation start to crack.

"If you care," Xander began, "half so much for Beruka and your unborn child as you pretend not to, than you know you have years of hard training standing between you and your usefulness as a proper healer."

Niles winced. "A bold presumption."

"And a true one. That—" Xander glanced pointedly to the Master Seal. "—will cut that time in half, if not further."

Niles studied Xander for another long moment, this time without a shred of indecency. "You know, Lord Xander," he remarked as he reached for the Master Seal, "I swear, you're the most like the King of his children."

Xander's body language gave nothing away. "I must be."

"And that's a convenient excuse, isn't it?" Niles said. "Stops you from pondering your innate nature, and absolves you of your guilt."

"Watch your tongue, archer," Xander growled. "You are here on Lord Leo's good graces—and nothing more."

"You forget," Niles began with a sickly sweet smile, "I also know too much."

"A fact which can be easily remedied, should you ever prove unfit for service."

Niles' eyebrow arched. "Will you send mages after my brain?"

Xander's scowled deepened. "I speak of killing you."

Niles put a melodramatic hand to his heart. "Are you _threatening_ me, Lord Xander?"

"No more than you deserve."

Even Niles found that difficult to argue with. So he went with a different approach: "And turn my dear Beruka into a widow, and my daughter into an orphan?"

"That decision rests entirely on you." Xander paused, and then snorted. "How conveniently you absolve me of my guilt."

Niles snorted, and wrapped his long, calloused fingers around the handles on either side of the concentric rings. "So do I just… hold it?"

"And focus on the man you wish to become," Xander said.

Niles blinked, the gesture permanently a wink due to his missing eye. "Is that all?"

Xander smirked, so minutely it could almost be mistaken for nothing at all, and said, " _Entstehen."_

The instant the Old Nohrian word left his lips, the Master Seal in Niles' hands whirred to life. The concentric rings began revolving, faster and faster around themselves, until Niles was an instant away from chucking the thing at the wall and being done with this whole debacle.

And then the very breath was forced from his lungs as power shot through his body, from his skull down to the tips of his toes. Niles could almost have sworn he was struck by lightning, and then it happened again—once, twice _, thrice_ —until the blasted Master Seal in his hands grew still, the light in its center stone winking out.

Niles sucked in great lungfuls of air, his hands going to his knees as he doubled over from the effort. Xander watched him struggle with an appraising eye, inscrutable as ever. When the heaving stopped, Niles reached up gingerly to take stock of his face, fully expecting burn marks and scorched hair, only to find…

Nothing. He was not even remotely injured.

"It's disorienting," Xander said pleasantly, as though speaking about the weather or a day trip into town, "but once you've righted I think you'll be pleased with the results."

Still breathing hard, Niles could only stare at the Crown Prince. He took mental stock of himself and found that, irritatingly, Xander was right. Niles had never felt so energetic in his entire life, not even when he was a boy. He felt like he could tackle the entire world and still have the energy left to crush it.

Xander turned back to his maps. "Your will uphold your end of the bargain."

Niles drew in a breath to steel himself. "Lord Leo. Got it."

"Good." Xander set the dragon figurine on the map again, at the head of a tiny battalion. "I recommend going straight to Lady Elise once you've finished with your Lord." Xander flicked a glance to the white-haired archer. "You've a lot to learn."

Deeply unsettled and unsure why, Niles hastily left the Crown Prince's presence.

-)

 **So this one took forever, thanks to Niles. He and Xander have a grand total of ZERO supports, which was frustrating as hell.**


	42. Chapter 42

"But _Xander_ ," Corrin whined, "we haven't done anything fun in _ages!"_

"I said no!" Xander was doing his best not to shout, but only a saint wouldn't be short with her. "It's far too dangerous to— _what_ did you say? Let our hair down?"

"You don't have to be intoxicated in public!" Corrin argued.

"And _I_ certainly wouldn't," Xander said, "but I can hardly stop the rest of our company, now can I?"

"We're in the Deeprealms," Corrin said. "Iago and Father don't even know this place exists. What's the harm in going to a festival here? You killed those invisible monsters; the villages have all been quiet."

Xander pinched the bridge of his nose as a migraine bloomed between his eyes. "Corrin, I understand your frustration, but I simply cannot condone this frivolity."

He started when Corrin's hand alighted on his and pulled it away from his face. "But you haven't said why," she said softly. "Just that you think it's dangerous."

Truth was, Xander didn't have a solid 'why,' just a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He jerked his hand out of Corrin's and tried to ignore the hurt in her eyes. "I can't explain why," he admitted. "Something just feels out of sorts."

"Are you certain that's not just you?" Corrin's features were gentle; it hurt to look at her for too long. "You always take it upon yourself to protect us, after all. You know it would be difficult to do so if you're intoxicated, or we're all scattered across the village, or after dark, or whatever—but this isn't a battlefield, Big Brother. This is peacetime."

It echoed wrongly in his ears. "We're still at war, Corrin."

"At home, sure," she said. "But here? There's no Hoshido here, and there isn't a Nohr, either. It's our one sanctuary."

For some reason, Xander didn't think so, but for the life of him, he couldn't pin _why._ "Will you not honor my wishes?"

Corrin's face twisted. "Oh, don't put it like that. You make me sound like a monster." She wrinkled her nose as if smelling something foul. "I just think you worry too much."

Xander sighed, and resisted the urge to massage his aching temples. "I suppose I can agree with that."

Corrin's ruby eyes lit up. "Sooo… you'll think about it?"

Xander sighed again. "Send over Camilla, would you? And Laslow?"

"Sure." Corrin nodded. "At once."

-)

"I'm torn, as well," Camilla said, while she, Laslow, and Xander had their heads metaphorically bent together in Xander's tent-slash-command-center later that afternoon. "On the one hand, it would be good for our friends and allies to see you as more magnanimous than father, plus we're about as safe as can be in wartime in these Deeprealms. Corrin is right about that.

"But on the other, I feel that something is wrong, as well." A shadow passed over the Malig Knight's face as she spoke. "The war has been unusually quiet as of late. Certainly, there would have been a few weeks' lull while Lord Ryoma, Lady Hinoka, and Lord Takumi returned to Castle Shirasagi, but it's been over a month full of mere border skirmishes? Unlikely. They're planning something."  
"And we know at least Saizo and Kagero know how to get here," Laslow added, his lips pursed in thought. "They delivered the original message." He shook his head a few times, as if to clear it. "But, they would hardly know that tonight of all nights is the one where we're drunk as lords and fat and happy. Corrin only came to you about it this morning."

"And although there is the possibly of her letting something slip to her other siblings," Camilla said with obvious distaste, "I don't think it's likely."

"I'm also not convinced Lord Ryoma and Lady Hinoka would do something, even if they _did_ know," Xander said slowly.

Which, of course, left unspoken the question of Takumi.

"It's not their style," Camilla agreed.

Laslow gave a humorless little laugh. "I'm starting to sound paranoid even to my own ears, like…"

Xander and Camilla politely waited for him to add the rest of the sentence.

Laslow sighed. "Like my father."

"You don't mention him much," Camilla said.

"I don't prefer to," Laslow said briskly. "But he did have a good head on his shoulders for protecting his Lord and Lady. If I start to sound like him, I'm either on the right track, or overly paranoid."

"How do you tell the difference?" Xander asked in genuine curiosity.

Laslow snorted. "The pebble test."

"I beg pardon?" said Camilla.

Laslow snorted again, this time louder and grosser. He set about for a handkerchief as he explained, "My father was known for picking up errant pebbles, lest his Lord or Lady trip."

Now it was Xander's turn to give a righteous snort. "Are you… quite serious?"

Laslow nodded. "Deathly so."

"So, this pebble test?" Camilla prodded.

"If it sounds absurd when I say it out loud," Laslow began, "it probably is."

Camilla burst into laughter. "I like it!"

"So, milord," Laslow said, still smiling but turning to Xander, "it sounds to me as if you're concerned that a peaceful realm is… too peaceful?"

Xander huffed an annoyed breath. "That _does_ sound like picking up pebbles."

"It's only natural," Laslow said kindly. "You've been in and out of wars for the last decade, if not more. This isn't Windmire, and we've only just finished off the last menace to this land. It's only a matter of time until there's another, or so I'd imagine your reasoning would go."

"You've got the gist," Xander said.

"One thing I've learned, though," Laslow began, a slow gin creeping across his face, "is that if you allow yourself to be consumed with fear, the enemy wins."

Xander cocked his head to study his retainer for a moment, and then began to grin himself. "Well, now. We can hardly have _that."_

"Exactly." Laslow winked.

Camilla expertly hid a grin. "Shall I tell Corrin the good news?"

Xander sighed, defeated. "Yes. Tell everyone who wishes to go to be at the front gate just before sundown."

"Capital!" Camilla beamed at her older brother. "I'll see you later, Xander dear."

Xander sighed as Camilla retreated. "Well, Laslow, I'd imagine you ought to be finding Peri about now."

Laslow grinned. " _Excellent_ idea, milord."

A rather undignified snort escaped him, and Xander immediately snapped a hand to his face and set about looking for a handkerchief on his person. Laslow's laughter bubbled up from somewhere over to Xander's right, only amplified when the prince couldn't seem to pin one down.

"Whatever would you do without us, milord?" Laslow asked, still laughing as he set about looking for one.

"I managed the first decades just fine," Xander pointed out, one hand moving the war table books and figurines.

"Well sure, but you had—" Laslow's voice dropped off.

"I had…?" Xander turned toward the grey-haired man, only to find him staring in horror at a golden chain of discs, nestled into a handkerchief pulled from the chest at the foot of Xander's bed.

Xander felt his stomach drop straight down into the Bottomless Canyon. He resisted the urge to explain and incriminate himself further, and instead studied Laslow's reactions. The dancer-turned-mercenary was still as stone, and had Xander not known better, would have almost assumed the man not to be breathing.

"Lord Xander," Laslow said in carefully cultured tones, "how do you have this?

Giving up on finding a handkerchief for the moment, Xander straightened his spine and pulled his hand away from his nose, taking mucilage with it. He folded his arms across his broad chest, and opted for the truth: "Kagero found it, and turned it over to me."

Laslow's brown eyes alit with fire. His brain was working miles in moments, trying to make sense of this new information. " _Why_ do you have this?"

Xander sighed. He would not look away from his mistakes. "For reasons beneath both you and me."

"Why would you keep this from me? This was my mother's!" Laslow found himself shouting, found water leaking from his eyes, but could not find it in him to care. "You know I tore apart war camps looking for this! You know I bothered everybody twice over, in the vain hope I'd find my mother's chain again. She's _dead,_ Lord Xander, and you _know_ that! You know… You _…_ You _know…"_ Laslow was spluttering, words failing him.

"I do know," said Xander quietly.

"Lord Xander, I _trusted_ you!"

"I know that, too."

"Then what in Naga's name is _wrong with you?_ I've already sworn to die for you, was that not enough?"

Xander visibly winced, but Laslow wasn't finished.

"I've lost _everything—_ more than once! I saw my mother die, I saw my king die, I saw my friends die. And the only half decent thing in the burning hellhole of Ylisse was my mother, and you stole my only memory of her! _Why?"_

Laslow paused, briefly, tears streaming down his face stubbornly ignored. _"_ And why aren't you saying anything?"

Xander finally hung his head, shame burning his cheeks. "It's nothing I don't deserve, or haven't told myself."

He found himself suddenly staring at Laslow's enraged face, being a good head taller than the other man. " _Why?"_ Laslow hissed.

Xander jerked his head up, staring unblinkingly at nothing. "It doesn't matter why."

Laslow grit his teeth. "I think it does."

For a long, heartbroken moment, Xander said nothing.

Then:

"You're a man with no past, Laslow," the Crown Prince said quietly. "I've let you have your secrets, as I found them to be none of my business. But after the Crescent Butchers, and hearing you argue with Selena, I let my paranoia get the better of me. You had kept your father's existence a secret, and Selena's anger was missing the puzzle piece that would have lent it sense. For what it's worth, I'm truly sorry." Xander snorted again, and immediately regretted it. "It sounds like picking up pebbles, now."

"Don't speak his name!"

For the first time in the entire exchange, anger bloomed in Xander's chest. "And how could I?" he snapped. "You've never given it."

Laslow grit his teeth. "Am I dismissed, Lord Xander?"

Xander's scowl deepened. "You hardly need permission to storm out of here, Laslow. You've earned that right."

Laslow didn't storm, so much as disappear. One moment the dancer's son was standing across from Xander, quaking with rage—and the next, he was gone, as if he had never been.

Xander lowered himself into the war table chair, his heart as disgusting as his hand.

 **-)**

 **Guest #1: Azura is around. Just not relevant quite yet**

 **Guest** **#2: Niles has indeed promoted. And that was exactly the reason I had so much trouble, lol**

 **Guest #3: Thank you. :) That's what I try to do best.**


	43. Chapter 43

The village festival was in full swing when the Nohrians arrived—for once, not in formation. There were street vendors selling fragrant bits of meat and savory vegetables, as well as every kind of bauble one could possibly imagine. Light and lilting music littered the air, tickling the recesses in one's brain where childhood memory is kept.

Corrin took one look at the bazaar, the streets awash in lantern-light and aromatics, and took off towards it, Camilla right behind her (and then, belatedly, Silas). The arrival party began to break apart, drifting from one street to the next. At one point, Xander caught sight of Laslow and Peri, disappearing down a side ally toward wherever the music was coming from, and then he found himself distinctly alone.

"Brother!"

Xander's head snapped toward the source of the noise, only to find Leo waving at him beside one of the street carts. Xander waved back, then threaded his way between couples and children and street performers as he crossed the overcrowded street. Leo passed him a tankard of blueberry ale as soon as he was within arm's reach.

"So Niles came to me earlier today," the young mage said in lieu of greeting, "with a most curious request."

"Oh?" Xander quirked an eyebrow over the rim of his tankard.

"He asked for permission to marry Beruka." One might have thought Leo would pause there for dramatic effect, but he did not. "And as if that weren't strange enough, he said it was because of you."

Xander took a nonchalant sip of ale. "It's well past time he took responsibility for his actions."

"Well, sure," said Leo, absentmindedly mirroring his older brother, "but what did you _say_ to him?"

"You do know _why_ he's asking now, yes?"

Leo shot him a withering look. "Beruka's pregnant."

Xander nearly choked on his ale. "How in the Dusk Dragon's name did you know that? _I_ only found out yesterday!"

"In what universe does Niles take responsibility for _anything?"_ Leo didn't wait for an answer. "The one where he's a father, apparently. Nothing else made near as much sense."

Still reeling, Xander blinked a few times, then asked, "Well, what did you tell him?"

"I've been telling him to propose since they started sleeping together!" Leo shook his head, annoyed, then took a long draught of ale. "I told him at this point, he doesn't need my blessing—he needs Beruka's."

A thought occurred to Xander. "Just how long _has_ their relationship been going on?"

Leo shrugged. "I don't know—a year or two? It's been on and off just about since that first winter festival after Camilla hired Beruka. Didn't you know?"

"And would I be asking if I had?" Xander was mostly able to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

Leo winced. "I apologize—I know the war has always kept you busy."

"There's no need to apologize," Xander said, reaching out to muss up Leo's hair, "just for me to tell you to quit being such a know-it-all."

Leo rolled his eyes and tried to smooth his bangs back down. "You're no better than me, Big Brother. Or have you forgotten the—?"

"Are you already bickering?" Azura interrupted. "It's much too hot for that."

Leo harrumphed. "It's not bickering if I'm right."

Xander valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Good evening, cousin."

"Good evening—" Azura began, only to be cut off by Leo.

"Why do you call her 'cousin?' If anything, she'd be 'step-sister.'"

"Because once upon a time," said Xander with exaggerated patience, "acknowledging that meant bringing the wrath of Father's Court upon you."

Azura smiled that serene, calming smile of hers. "It was one of your brother's little rebellions, acknowledging me."

"Didn't seem right, otherwise." Embarrassed, Xander buried his reddening face in his tankard.

Leo took a moment to digest this information, and then quietly moved on. "What can we do for you, Azura?"

"Funny you should mention that." Azura smoothed an unseen crease in her skirts. "My typical dance partner seems to be chasing after your sister at the moment. Would either of you kindly—?"

Leo harrumphed. "You know Kaze is just keeping an eye on Corrin."

As smoothly as she moved, Azura corrected herself: "Xander, would you kindly dance with me?"

"If you wanted to dance with the Crown Prince," Xander teased, holding out his arm, "all you had to do was ask."

"I wanted to dance with a ninja." A teasing lilt came to her smile as Azura threaded her arm through his. "But I suppose a Crown Prince will do."

Leo harrumphed again as the pair walked away—"I'm drinking your beer, Xander!"

Xander waved off his little brother and allowed Azura to lead him to the courtyard. Couples were already whirling about to the lively band playing in the corner near an inn. Strains of almost-familiar music clung to Xander's ears, as Azura directed him naturally into position. Xander always thought of her as a dancer, despite knowing she possessed a lovely voice. He never knew why.

Although come to think of it, there were a lot of things about his step-sister that he didn't know, largely due to the fact that King Garon's court had socially massacred her mother. Arete had come to the kingdom hot on the heels of Queen Katerina's death, and somehow caught his father's eye. Her singing voice—the one that Azura had inherited—probably had something to do with it, or so the rumors went.

She had been a nice enough woman, adult Xander could recognize, elegant and refined, and as noble a figure as Queen Katerina had ever been. But she wasn't his mother and never would be, and some of the court (and little Xander) could never let her forget that.

Azura had been different, too, a quiet child. Her eyes held the knowledge of a great horror witnessed too young, just like Camilla's and Leo's. Xander had never asked her what she'd seen, largely because he was never able to. His nursemaids and tutors had all warned him away from Queen Arete's blood daughter, called him a traitor to his mother's memory for just wanting to befriend his new sister (as he had for every "new sister" previous). And by the time Azura had been kidnapped by Hoshido in retaliation for King Garon's kidnapping of Corrin, he'd barely known her at all.

In his darker moments, Xander would call that retaliation a blessing. Azura spoke quite fondly of her time in Hoshido, and of Lords Ryoma and Takumi, Ladies Hinoka and Sakura. He supposed she was a reverse Corrin that way.

"Xander?" Azura's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "Are you alright? You seem like you're miles away."

"I suppose I am." Xander tired to smile reassuringly, but even he knew it didn't come out that way. "Apologies."

Azura studied him for a moment without breaking step. "Where are you?"

Xander sighed. "Home."

"Are you near the oak tree in the courtyard?" Azura was smiling again. "That was always my favorite place to practice dance."

Xander smiled distantly. "I think I'm in the stables, actually."

"Brushing Siegmund?"

Xander sighed again, this time annoyed. "Always."

Azura laughed, a light tinkling that floated atop the music. "You could have had one of the servants do it, you know."

"I know, I just…" Xander shrugged. "…didn't."

Azura waited patiently for Xander to tack on something that was never going to come. So eventually, she said, "You haven't seemed much like yourself since you came back, cousin."

"I haven't seemed stressed and mildly irritated all the time?"

Azura snorted. "I'll amend. You now have a deep melancholy to you that wasn't there before."

"I find that also hard to believe."

Azura fixed him in a steely gaze. "Stop misdirecting me."

Xander bristled. "I'm not certain what it is you _want_ , Azura."

"Just honesty."

"You've spoken with Corrin, and I'm certain she's told you everything." Xander tried to keep his voice as tightly controlled as his tactics with Siegfried. "Are you asking about my mother? I've grieved her. You were at the Bottomless Canyon, are you asking of that? I grieved that, too."

"And Hinoka? Have you grieved her?"

Xander bit back on his molars. "I have a deplorable habit of befriending people who leave. It's nothing that's not happened before."

"So, no," Azura surmised. "Honestly Xander, you'll work yourself to death avoiding everything you feel."

Xander's face shut down hard. "Spoken with Camilla, have you?"

Azura shook her head, her blue hair floating behind her as she did so. "Haven't needed to. But it's good to know she's on my side."

Xander could hear the strains of the song ending. He allowed their movement to finish before he took a sharp step back and dropped into a courteous bow. "If you'll excuse me."

"Xander, hold on!" Azura called after him.

He continued forward.

-)

In an inn on the other side of town, Laslow and Peri had secluded themselves away from everyone else they could possibly know.

"I'm sure Lord Xander had a good reason, Lazzy," Peri was saying, her mismatched eyes wide. "He always does."

"It's just a costume bauble!" Laslow hadn't stopped running his fingers up and down the golden discs since he'd found them in Lord Xander's tent that afternoon. "It's hardly worth the fools' gold it's coated in."

"Not to you," Peri pointed out.

"So you agree, then? It was blackmail?"

"But he wouldn't _do_ that!" Peri said, a tinge of whine creeping into her voice.

Even for as angry as he was, Laslow could admit, "He… didn't, I guess. But he meant to!"

"But he didn't!" Peri took a triumphant swig of ale.

"But he _meant_ to!"

"But he _didn't!"_

Laslow sighed. This was getting him nowhere. He had thought Peri would understand his anger—and she had, to a large degree—but they had been arguing about their Lord ever since.

" _And_ he said he was sorry," Peri added. "Did he mean it?"

A very petulant part of Laslow wanted to say no, but even Inigo had been better than that. "I think so," he ground out.

"Then you know that even though he meant to blackmail you, he didn't want to, 'cause he feels bad." Peri nodded smartly, and took another sip of ale.

"It isn't that simple, Peri."

"Sure it is! Just because he's sorry doesn't mean you have to forgive him yet. You just have to know that he's sorry."

Usually, her childlike logic was laughably simple, but this one actually made sense. Laslow was at a loss for words, and took to contemplating his tankard.

"Is that something that the nice doctor-man told you?" he finally asked.

"Mm-hmm." Peri nodded. "He had good ideas, sometimes."

Laslow sighed, downed the rest of his ale, and then signaled to a passing barmaid that he could use another. She nodded, and then held up one finger and then two with a questioning look. Laslow glanced to Peri's tankard, found it largely empty, and then held up two fingers. The barmaid nodded, and then disappeared.

When Laslow turned back to Peri, he found her giggling. "You're cute, Laslow," she said.

He wished he had something wittier to say than "Not as cute as you are."

Peri stuck her tongue out at him, and then clapped her tiny hands to either side of his face and yanked him forward into an enthusiastic kiss.

Affection was a thing Peri was still learning how to express, and so kissing her largely consisted of teeth and indelicacy, but Laslow wouldn't trade it for anything. He always felt the universe stand still in these moments, felt something jerk behind his navel as if a Stoneborn had just yanked him from the ground in preparation to pelt him into eternity.

A cough from somewhere to the left broke them apart, and the barmaid from before, now annoyed, slapped two more tankards between them. Laslow sheepishly pulled his toward him, but Peri was beaming at the woman.

The barmaid's facial expression softened, just a little. "There are room upstairs, you know."

"Maybe later," Peri said, and Laslow felt his face explode with heat.

"Peri!" he spluttered.

"What?" she said as the barmaid walked away. "It's a long walk back to our camp and I might be tired?"

"Peri, you know that's not what that means!"

Peri squinted at him. "Of course it does, what else would it…?" Her eyes snapped open. "Oh! Like sex! That's a maybe later too, I guess."

This woman would be the death of him, Laslow decided as heat began to creep down his collar. He wasn't certain if he cared.

-)

Niles had never been a person made for sitting still. He was constantly moving and fidgeting. It was part of what had made him such a good thief—it had felt utterly natural to constantly move forward and glance over his shoulder. But Beruka was a being made for calculated movement. In one of her more legendary stakeouts, she spent sixteen hours half buried in mud, not moving, hardly breathing, just waiting. And when Beruka's quarry had finally come along, the target had been killed in the space of two breaths, and blood had pooled in the mud where Beruka had been just moments prior.

They found going for walks to be a sort of compromise, and so that is what they'd been doing for most of the evening. The festival was boisterous and easy to lose themselves within, and both the thief and the assassin found themselves about as relaxed as they ever grew. And yet—

"If you're just going to mope all night, I'm going to go find Selena," said Beruka.

"You'll just find more moping," Niles said.

"Sure, but it won't be directed at me."

"This isn't directed at you," Niles tried, which was true enough.

Beruka snorted derisively, but said nothing.

She was a master of silence, Niles had long since learned. It was to be expected, from an assassin, and it wasn't a pleasant thing to go up against, but as with many things, he often had no choice. Here she was now, employing silence the way others employed day laborers or carters.

"Beruka," Niles finally said when he could no longer stand it, "I've been thinking."

She continued to say nothing, only stared him down with those piercing grey eyes.

"We're in wartime, yeah? And wartime can make you lose sight of a lot of things." Niles drew a deep breath. "Have you realized, when our child is born, it'll be a bastard?"

Beruka blinked, uncomprehending. "Same as you and me."

Niles stared down at his rough fingertips, so often chafed raw by his bow. "What if it didn't have to be?"

"Are you telling me you found someone to adopt our _unborn_ child?" Beruka's voice was dripping with contempt.

Niles made an annoyed noise. "I'm talking about getting married."

Beruka blinked—once, twice, thrice—and waited. When nothing else was forthcoming, she said, "I beg pardon; I don't think I heard you. I know you didn't just suggest _getting married."_

Again, Niles made an annoyed noise. "And why is that so hard to believe?"

"You've been avoiding it since we started."

"And I _told_ you, I've been thinking-!"

"No, you haven't. Who put you up to this—Lord Leo?"

"Beruka, come now…"

"Lady Camilla?"

"I am _trying_ to—"

"No, they don't have enough power," Beruka said, almost to herself. "Lord Xander?"

At that name, Niles finally grew quiet.

"I knew it," Beruka said, even more quietly than usual.

Niles sighed. "Yes, I spoke with Lord Xander the other day. He offered me a deal—"

"So I'm a bargaining chip?" Unfamiliar fury rose in Beruka's throat, unlike any she'd ever felt previous. " _She_ is?" Beruka jabbed downward, toward her well-camouflaged belly.

"Of course not!" Niles nigh exploded at the implications. "Beruka, I…" He tried to say it, but the words wouldn't come out.

"You _what,_ Niles?" Beruka shot back. "Love me? No, you don't. I know that."

 _No, no_ , Niles wanted to say. _You have it all wrong._ But for once, his damn tongue wouldn't form the words.

"I've always known that." Beruka took his silence for something else entirely. "So you can hate me as much as you like—but not her."

And then, without so much as another sound, Beruka disappeared—leaving Niles alone in a crowded alleyway.

 **-)**

 **Sorry for the delay. I repeat my previous PSA about antidepressants.**

 **Replies:**

 **Guest: Forgetting about Olivia's chain is partially the point.**


	44. Chapter 44

**I highly recommend you read this chapter while listening to _Id (Dilemma)_ from the Awakening soundtrack.**

 **-)**

Xander jerked awake in the early hours of the morning.

He wasn't certain _why_ he had awoken. There was no thunder booming outside the canvas walls of his tent, no drunken laughter or alarms sounding. The night outside was still and quiet, and yet, here he was.

Xander sat up, rubbing hardened sleet out of his eyes. His tongue felt like cotton from the festival ale, but he had at least avoided a damned migraine. He had no idea what time it was, and even less desire to know. _Maybe you ought to take a walk to clear your head._ That sounded sensible.

Xander got to his feet, the bare soles protesting bearing his full weight. He stretched, cracking his spine in at least three places, and set about looking through the darkness for his cloak. Where had he thrown the damned thing?

A set of footsteps ran past his tent, quiet thuds in the gloom.

Xander froze, listening hard. Who was running at this hour? Was it early enough for Arthur and Effie's morning routine? _Wouldn't there have been two sets of footsteps?_ _And do they normally run by the sleeping quarters?_ Or was the guard changing? _Again, two sets, and who would run? Maybe Odin?_

Cautiously, Xander eased forward, hardly daring to breathe. His pulse was pounding in his ears, his mouth drier than it had been even a few moments ago. His bare feet made no sound on the tramped earth of his tent as he slipped past the war table and the locked trunk at the foot of his bed.

He carefully pulled back the tent flap and poked his head out. The world was dark and quiet, as one would expect in the hours of pre-dawn, and the oil lanterns spaced throughout the camp had all burned low. Xander began to mentally admonish himself for being so paranoid, but then he caught something out of the corner of his eye.

He jerked his head sideways and squinted through the gloom, trying to discern the source of the movement. For a long moment, he saw nothing—no dark form, no glint of light on metal—but then, inexplicably, the grass just off the main path began to part of its own accord.

Xander's eyes snapped open, and his blood froze in his veins.

 _Uzai._

He ducked back into his tent and yanked Siegfried from its resting place on the war table. He spared the manikin holding his armor only a backwards glance, knowing that getting into it would take far more time than he had the luxury of spending, and then was out the door.

The summer's night air was thick and warm, practically sticking to Xander's bare skin as he bolted toward the self-parting grass. In the low light of the oil lanterns, he almost missed the traces of purple that heralded Uzai.

Siegfried cut silently through the humid air, and despite everything, Xander found himself surprised that it made contact. A small part of him had been hoping this was simply paranoia, and that he'd finally lost it and the nightmarish Uzai had not returned. But the larger, more regal part of him, knew that to be child's folly.

The Uzai grunted on contact, and Xander noted the grass shifting beneath its feet (no doubt, turning to face him). The Crown Prince didn't give the creature the chance to react, instead yanking Siegfried free and twisting, smashing the legendary sword into the creature's other side. Siegfried made contact once more, and then sliced cleanly through. With a strangled cry, the grass below was parted further, as though an invisible rock had been placed upon it.

Xander's feet were moving before his brain. _Where there is one Uzai, there has to be more. And why hadn't the guards at the gate sounded the alarm? Is anyone else awake? What in the hell is going on? Hadn't we rooted out the Uzai at their source? Was this a lone straggler, a new creation, or a different battalion entirely?_

Xander bolted past sleeping tents and Lilith's Temple, shouting incoherent orders to rouse the army and generally feeling as though he were watching his body from a distance. His heart sank when the main gate came into view—it was flung wide and the belltower beside it was utterly silent. _Who was on duty, tonight? Charlotte and Benny? Keaton and Mozu? Townsfolk?_

As he rounded on the belltower, Xander felt the breath escape his lungs. There were more "invisible rocks" on the grass, sure, but there was also the bloodied corpse of a half-turned Wolfskin in the grass, and the mangled corpse of a half-naked berserker pinned to the wall by mostly invisible, purplish spears. Both appeared to have been startled, their weapons half-drawn.

Xander felt bile rose in his throat, and he forced himself to turn away. He would bury them once the intruders had been dealt with, on his honor as their liege and as a knight, so help him Dusk Dragon. He wrenched open the door to the belltower and grasped blindly for the rope, still fighting the urge to vomit.

When others would speak of this night many years later, one detail that never changed was that the Crown Prince himself had charged shirtless through the war camp to sound the alarm. Xander would cringe to hear those tales; he would much prefer this awful night to stay buried in memory.

The camp began to come alive with the sound of the alarm bell, shouts ringing out and metal clanging on metal, and Xander's most coherent thought became: _I must protect my siblings._

Their cover blown, the Uzai were no longer concerned with staying quiet. All around him, fights erupted as Xander bolted back through the camp. He caught glimpses of lightning and the whistling of arrows as he dodged tree limbs and Uzai alike. Camilla's tent was the closest to the gate, so that was where his feet first carried him.

But, as usual, he needn't have worried for his eldest younger sister. Camilla was already awake and alert, smashing her steel axe into every possible Uzai she could see, and even the ones whose position she could only guess. Her white, sheath-style nightgown was already stained in blood at the hem, and her hair was wild and untamed. Beside her, Selena was visibly enraged, smashing her sword into anything her liege lady missed, her swordswoman stance accentuating _just_ how short her hastily-belted nightgown was.

"Xander!" Camilla shouted over yet another clash of metal-on-metal. "What's going on?"

Xander smashed Siegfried into an Uzai that had come rounding the corner. He felt blood splash the hems of his breeches. "I wish I knew!"

"Fuck!" Selena shouted.

For once, Xander agreed with her.

Camilla's facial expression grew even stormier. "You go find Leo, I'll take Elise! Meet me at the stables?"

"What about Corrin?"

Camilla shook her head. "Beruka thinks this might have been an assassination attempt. She went to find her!"

Xander hadn't previously thought it possible, but his heart sank _even further_ than it had at the main gate. " _Shit!"_

Selena's eyes widened with newfound respect. "My _Lord!"_

"We've already two casualties…" Xander paused to run Siegfried through another Uzai. "…let's pray there are no more!"

Camilla nodded, and the two siblings took off towards Leo and Elise's tents.

Xander charged back the way he came originally, brushing off shouted questions and slicing through _Uzai._ There seemed to be no end of either, and Xander wondered where this invisible menace was even coming from. Wasn't the whole point of the Hoshidan truce to root them out at the source?

Somewhere along the way to Leo's tent, Xander passed Laslow and Peri. They were in impeccable formation, standing between some of the kitchen staff and a knot of Uzai, and Xander had never felt more grateful to his retainers.

"Lord Xander!" Laslow shouted as soon as he spotted the blond head of hair. "What's going on?"

"I wish I knew!" Why did everyone assume he knew anything about this?

Without even breaking stance, Peri stabbed cleanly through an Uzai and shouted, "I thought we killed all the Uzai?"

"So did I!" Xander called back.

Even at a distance, Xander could see Laslow's eyes widen in their sockets. The man had pulled on his gambeson, sans undershirt or clasps, but Peri was just wearing a loose blouse she'd evidently slept in, her armor too involved to be put on quickly—like Xander's or Camilla's. She was a target, and it would not do.

"Get to the stables, Peri!" Xander called over.

Recognition shot through her face. "Right, Froh!"

"My siblings and I will meet you there presently!"

It wasn't until Xander was well on his way to Leo's tent that he realized Peri wasn't wearing a blouse, but a man's shirt.

The thought was blotted out almost immediately by the sight of Leo in his grey, hand-me-down nightshirt with a cloak hastily thrown over it, conjuring spell after spell from Brynhildr. The wild branches twisted from the earth, snapping limbs from the Uzai and cracking like whips across their backs.

Odin was positioned just outside of Leo's tent, the expression on his face as deathly serious as Xander had ever seen him. The mage had also thrown a cloak on over his breeches, and was casting bolts of lightning from his personal Grimoire. Xander could see just how tightly the man's jaw was clenched by the veins that stood out in his neck.

"Brother!" Xander shouted.

Leo's gaze snapped over just as Brynhildr receded back into the earth. "What the hell is going in?"

 _Leave it to Leo to be annoyed at being attacked in his sleep._ Xander could have laughed. "The Uzai! Look for parted grass or smoke-like wavering in the air."

Leo nodded, sending Brynhildr toward the sky once more. "I thought you'd killed them all?"

"So did I!" Xander punctuated the sentence by cleaving another Uzai in half. "Now come on!"

Leo and Odin were immediately on the move, but Odin asked, "Where are we going?"

"The stables!"

Leo nodded sagely as they continued forward, his eyes wide in the darkness. He scanned his surroundings with rapid movements, looking for motion or any of the hallmarks Xander had told him. _So the whole Hoshidan truce was useless, eh? What was Lord Ryoma playing at?_

Or, Leo could concede, perhaps the Hoshidans were just as clueless as they were, making stabs in the dark and being attacked in their sleep like they had been.

At one point as they cleaved through the chaos, Xander realized, "Where's Niles?"

"Chased after Beruka," Leo grunted as he twisted to avoid catching a war axe to the chest. The blade missed, but the half still clipped his unarmored ribs.

Xander stabbed Siegfried cleanly through the offending Uzai, yanking the sword back out with a grunt. "I hope he knows what she's doing."

They cut a blistering path toward the stables, smashing sword and spell into every godsforsaken Uzai they could perceive. The bodies kept piling up, but there seemed to be no end of them. _If this is an assassination attempt,_ Xander thought, _it's a spectacularly loud one._ Nonetheless, Corrin was next on the priority list to secure. Up in her secluded treehouse, she had to have seen the Uzai coming—right?

Xander and Leo found their sisters readying their mounts in the stables, the former noted with palpable relief. Elise was wide-eyed but seemed unharmed, her baby-doll nightgown stained with blood and dirt. Camilla was already on Ilse's back and locking her legs into place with the saddle straps, determination written across her features.

"I'll go ahead," the Malig Knight said with a decisive twist of the last strap. "We have to make sure Corrin is safe and the camp is secure."

Leo nodded—"Right!"—and headed towards his beloved war horse, Geist.

Xander spent the barest amount of time possible saddling up Siegmund, and vaulted onto his back without even fully leaving the stable. Another thought broke through the current in his mind, "Where is Peri?"  
But Elise just shook her head, now also mounted on her old bay mare, Cinnamon. "We haven't seen her."

Xander tried not to dwell on what that could mean. " _Shit,"_ he hissed instead.

"Are either of you hurt?" Elise asked her brothers as Leo came striding out atop Geist.

Both Leo and Xander shook their heads. "We're fine, Elise," Leo said.

"You two, stick together," Xander ordered his younger siblings. "I'm going to find Corrin."

He didn't wait for an answer, but instead spurred Siegmund forward. The destrier took off at full gallop toward Corrin's treehouse, and Xander habitually tightened his grip on his sword. He leaned right to catch some Uzai under the chin that had been harassing Nyx, and the mage nodded her thanks before sending concentrated darkness straight at the knot of wavering smoke in Siegmund's way, her nightgown fluttering in some unseen wind.

The destrier charged on, and Xander spotted Arthur and Effie amongst the wreckage of the Einherjar shop. Cards were flung left and right as Arthur and the Uzai dueled, Effie remaining a rock behind him. She nearly lost her footing a few times in the wreckage, and Xander felt his heart pulse painfully in his throat every time. There was already too much death here tonight; Elise needed not lose her best friend.

There was Benny "the Mountain," taking on Uzai after Uzai as he lumbered toward the main gate, no doubt in search of Charlotte. Bile rose again in Xander's throat at the memory of Charlotte and Keaton's bodies at the gate, and he hoped to the Dusk Dragon that Benny would stay occupied long enough for someone else to need his help and draw him away from his search.

There was no sign of Beruka and Niles, but Xander _did_ find Azura and Kaze fetched up against the wall of the partially-destroyed armory. The dancer wasn't particularly adept with her naginata, but she wasn't letting it stop her. The ninja, in contrast, was flinging shuriken after shuriken, trying and failing to just gain ground.

Xander made the snap decision to veer right and slice through the band of Uzai harassing Kaze and Azura. The impact on his sword arm was jarring, and he nearly lost his grip.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Xander roared over the fray.

Azura and Kaze both shook their heads. "We're fine!" she called back.

"Have you seen Corrin?" Kaze shouted.

For the third time that day, Xander's heart sank into his gut. "I was going to ask you that!"

Kaze's eyes widened further than even Elise's had been. He cursed in Hoshidan, and then took off running towards Corrin's treehouse, high stepping over invisible Uzai corpses. Azura chased after him, her naginata held in a passible imitation of joust position. _Had he come to ensure Azura's safety,_ Xander wondered as he urged his horse forward, _or was he here when the fighting started?_ Either way, it seemed like Corrin's safeguards were dwindled to Silas, Jakob, and Gunter, although each were formidable in their own right, to say nothing of whatever Beruka had gone off to do.

Siegmund began to pick up speed, barreling through any Uzai in his way. The creatures crunched beneath the destrier's powerful hooves and Xander's legendary blade. Some Uzai were attacking various staff and villagers, and some were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Xander lost count of how many he killed, a fact that was not lost on him. If the Uzai were men, Xander ought to be ashamed of himself for losing track, but if they were constructs or creatures, then he could perhaps one day forgive himself.

The sky grew no darker yet no lighter, and the oil in the lanterns had nearly run out. Xander's eyes had largely adjusted to the gloom, but the Uzai weren't normal enemies. One (or perhaps more) of the army's mages had set fire to some oil lanterns in an effort to keep them burning as long as possible, but it did precious little to help perceive the Uzai in their semi-visible state. But Xander needn't have worried for his visibility, for he had finally reached Corrin's treehouse.

Which was also on fire.

At the bottom of the tree's ladder, he spotted Jakob, coughing up something dark and sticky, and Gunter, lance in hand, standing over the butler's prone form. _But not Corrin._

"Where is she?" Xander roared as he sliced through yet more Uzai. His sword arm was beginning to go numb, and his voice was growing hoarse. How long had they been at this? Did it matter?

"After these… _monsters_ appeared, Corrin ran to find you," Gunter called back. The old man was breathing heavily, and a dark spot had blossomed across his nightshirt. "Silas is with her!"

Something didn't process. "Ran to find _me?"_

"Aye!"

Jakob coughed more blood onto the grass, trying in vain to clean his face with the ruined sleeves of his nightshirt. "She said you should know." Jakob curled in on himself in another wracking fits of coughs. "And then the alarm sounded."

"And the fire?" Xander called, already urging Siegmund into a trot.

"Set when they found she wasn't here!" Gunter called to the Crown Prince's retreating form.

Xander tried very hard not to let the rising panic consume him. Three of his four younger siblings were accounted for (four of five, counting Azura), but there was one—the naïve, half-dragon one, who yet believed people to be innately good—still missing.

A shriek pierced the air, and Xander yanked Siegmund toward the source. He sidled between tents and ruined buildings alike, trying to determine the shriek's origin. It did not sound again.

Xander reached the main plaza with the enormous statue they'd dedicated to the Dusk Dragon, and finally— _finally—_ laid eyes on the navy-haired form of his Little Princess. Corrin had also been roused from sleep, her hair wild and breeches and sleeveless undershirt covered in sweat and blood. Her teeth were gritted as she surveyed the knot of Uzai surrounding her, tears streaming from her eyes.

And at her feet lay the unmoving, decapitated form of one silver-haired knight.

She was wavering, the Yato practically vibrating before her. She had both hands wrapped around the filigreed hilt, but her whole body was shaking from the effort of remaining calm. _She must not have her dragonstone,_ Xander realized. It was the only reason she would be so emotionally off-balanced. She would be terrified of lashing out, lest the dragon arise without the stone to control it.

The Uzai were pressing in, and Xander found it impossible to discern just how many there were. Two, three, a dozen, a hundred? He supposed it didn't exactly matter; he had cut down dozens of their comrades today, he would do no less now.

Corrin's head suddenly whipped towards him, and she shrieked, true fear in her voice, " _Xander!"_

Siegmund was moving before Xander had even given the order. He couldn't see the Uzai but he could sense their urgency. He lowered himself to the destrier's back, urging him ever forward and trying desperately to pin down the position of any of the Uzai.

Corrin turned to strike, as she had a hundred times before, and Xander watched her bare feet slip—just as he had warned her a hundred times they would. _Too far, I'm too far!_ There was no way Siegmund would reach her in time.

So instead, Xander brought Siegfried up and over his head, steering the horse with his knees and bringing the legendary sword down sharply before him, as if cleaving something in two. A bolt of reddish-black energy erupted from the edge of the sword, arcing across the plaza.

But it was too late.

An invisible blade pierced Corrin's unarmored abdomen a mere instant before the bolt of magical energy fried the arms holding it, and suddenly the world was moving at a fraction of its normal speed.

Xander was aware of the rawness in his voice as he shouted her name, was aware that two breaths after his arc lightning had hit, the gnarled roots of a great tree had sprung forth and twisted themselves around the remaining Uzai, was aware that three breaths after his arc lightning had hit, the great form of a mighty wyvern had swooped down and caught a few Uzai in its massive claws, its owner leaning dangerously sideways in her saddle to cleave the offending Uzai's head clean from its shoulders.

He was aware that Corrin was falling, was aware that blood was blooming across her torso, was aware that she did not move when she hit the ground.

He was aware that Elise had screamed for her big sister, and had dismounted from Cinnamon with her healing staff in hand. He was aware that Elise was a talented healer who would do everything she possibly could, but some deep, dark part of Xander knew that it was useless.

He was aware that their sister was gone.

With that admission, the world snapped to its normal pace. Xander blinked a few times as his sight and hearing came sharply back into focus, and he was assaulted with Elise's cries and Camilla's unashamed sobbing. Leo was whipping his head around desperately in search of something to fight, but the grass was parting away from them, now.

"They're retreating," Xander got out hoarsely. "It was an assassination, after all."

"Corrin, wake _up!"_ Elise screamed. "This isn't funny! You aren't funny!"

"Xander…" Camilla's tear-stained face turned to him, her axe clutched between her hands like a child's toy. "…what do we _do?"_

"Gather everyone," Xander said, his whole body going numb alongside his sword arm. "We'll stay in Lilith's temple tonight— _all of us."_

"And the dead?" Leo asked, tears beginning to streak down his boyish face.

"They'll have to wait 'til morning." Xander's voice was pale and hoarse—a far cry from his usual confidant orders.

Leo and Camilla took their orders and departed, tears still streaming down their faces, but Elise remained, stubbornly pumping healing magic into Corrin's limp frame. "Wake up, wake up, _wake up,"_ she ordered between sobs.

Xander dismounted, though he kept a tight hold of Siegfried. "Elise," he murmured, "Elise, you have to move."

"Not without Corrin!"

"Elise." Xander's hand clenched around her shoulder as tears threatened to break even the Crown Prince's stone face. "It isn't safe here."

Tears streamed down her face, soaking into her blonde hair and dulling her violet eyes. "I can't leave her, Big Brother."

"You aren't," Xander promised. "We'll return as soon as it's light."

Elise's hands reached out, clutching Xander's tightly, even around Siegfried. "You promise?"

Xander nodded. "I do."

Wordlessly, Elise let go of his hands, and mounted Cinnamon once again. She threaded her healing staff through its customary saddle loop, and took off at a canter towards Lilith's temple. Xander straightened his spine and mounted his own destrier once more, setting Siegmund off at a trot.

He would not let himself think as he rounded up stragglers and wounded and directed them to the temple. He told no one of the news, and could not bear to let himself weep (though he came close when Gunter had asked where Corrin was). If there were ever a time he needed this Crown Prince's mask, it was now.

Camilla was waiting outside Lilith's temple when he finally arrived. Tears continued to stream down her face but she made no sound. "Is that everyone?" she asked, still clutching her war axe.

Xander nodded numbly as he dismounted. "I believe so."

Camilla's shoulders sagged in relief for a brief moment, before she reached out and grabbed Xander's hands, much like Elise had at Corrin's… _No, no, no. I will not think it. I can't._

"What are we going to tell father?" Camilla asked, desperation in her voice.

One, single tear escaped from the corner of the Crown Prince's eye as he squeezed his sister's hands back. "What will we tell the Hoshidans?"

"Tell them all the truth," said another voice.

Xander and Camilla turned to see Azura, her eyes screwed shut as if in pain, tears streaking down her face.

"This is all my fault," whispered the dancer.

 **End of Act I**


	45. Act II

Castle Shirasagi was always lovely in the fall.

Or at least, Hinoka had always thought so. There were plenty who made the pilgrimage to see the Cherry Blossoms in the spring, of course, and those were lovely too, but Hinoka much preferred the crispness of an autumn morning of _koyo,_ leaving her with time to contemplate and perhaps mediate (if she ever got that far) as the maples turned vibrantly red and delicately gold.

She had, just this morning, sat cross-legged on her balcony, sipping green tea in peace and shouldering a _haori_ against the cold. All across the courtyard and beyond, the maple leaves had begun changing, and she could just barely make out a light dusting of snow on Mount Aino in the distance. Winter would be upon them soon enough, and with it, the traditional ceasefire in their war with Nohr.

Not for the first time since the truce, Hinoka had wondered just how they were doing—Xander, Camilla, and Corrin. Did their war meetings feel just as strange as hers and Ryoma's did? Did they find themselves wishing this blasted war were over with already and everyone could get on with their lives? Was Camilla setting spies on them even as they spoke? Was Corrin being forced into another mess like the massacre at Cheve? Was Xander riding stiff-backed into battle with that damnable, wonderful legendary sword of his? Did he…?

Hinoka never let herself finish that thought, though she would never admit to being afraid of it.

And now, Hinoka stood, naginata in hand, waiting for her morning class to start in one of Castle Shirasagi's many courtyards. She had taken it upon herself to teach the Sky Knight recruits, partially as a pet project and partially as a favor to their current, very overworked commander, but she'd grown accustomed to stating her day with sparring drills and agility exercises. She would protect her country by any means at her disposal—even if it meant drilling the basics into a bunch of fifteen-year-olds.

Hinoka was barely ten minutes into teaching when Saizo appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He paid no mind to the recruits, instead walking right up to Hinoka. He bowed lowly for a five-count, as was tradition, before straightening up. "Milady, your lord brother requests your presence in the war room."

 _The hell is Ryoma doing in the war room at this hour?_ He was undoubtedly awake, of course, but war meetings didn't usually convene until after lunch. "Has something happened?" Hinoka asked, idly twirling her naginata.

Saizo's face did not change—or at least, the parts of it that were visible didn't. "He did not say."

Hinoka's brow furrowed, although the motion was largely lost to her bangs. She turned to one of the recruits in the front row, said something about practicing drilling without her, and then passed her naginata over to Azama.

"When will you return?" the monk asked, boredom dripping from every syllable.

Hinoka shrugged. "As soon as my Lord brother allows, I guess."

She turned to leave, and found that Saizo had already disappeared again. She would never understand why Ryoma insisted on having _ninjas_ for retainers, of all things. They always seemed to be appearing and disappearing whenever it was least convenient.

Hinoka supposed that changing clothes would take more time than whatever Ryoma felt the need to tell her, so she went straight to the war room. Several courtiers bowed to her in the halls, and Hinoka found her mind wandering. _It's getting sort of chilly, around here._ Castle Shirasagi's famously open floor plan was lovely in the hot, humid Hoshidan summers, but required a lot of braziers and hot sake in the winter.

The engraved double doors to the war room were closed—another thing that made Hinoka's brow furrow. If Ryoma were calling a war meeting, they traditionally shouldn't be shut until everyone had arrived. _Must not be a war meeting, then._ The war council chamber was, almost by virtue of necessity, the most secure room in the entire castle.

 _What needs that kind of security?_ Hinoka wondered as she wrenched open the doors.

She'd been expecting to find her Lord Brother dressed as the ceremonial samurai in royal chin armor. Instead, she found Ryoma, looking very tired in the closest yukata to "worn" that Mikoto had allowed him to own. His hair was even more a mess than usual, escaping from a haphazard topknot, and there were dark circles under his eyes visible even in the candlelight (the war room, after all, had no windows).

"You look like shit," Hinoka informed her older brother.

Ryoma's face didn't move, but he did snort. "Shut the door, Hinoka."

She pulled the heavy maple wood shut behind her, enclosing them both in smoky semidarkness. "You sent for me?"

Ryoma sighed. "I did." He smoothed his bangs away from his face, and he looked as if there were something else he wanted to say.

Hinoka waited a far longer amount of time than she typically would. _"Niisan,"_ she tried again, _big brother, "_ what's going on?"

Ryoma sighed again, looking far older than his scant twenty-five years. "You'll never guess who showed up at the gates this morning." He didn't wait for an answer. "It was Kaze, with _this."_ He pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his yukata, held it aloft for a moment, and then passed it over to Hinoka. _Not a scroll,_ she couldn't help but notice, _an envelope._

Envelopes meant Nohrian correspondence. Envelopes meant news from Corrin, or possibly a plea from a small village near the Nohrian/Hoshidan border. Never before had an envelope made Ryoma look so _tired._

"Ryoma, I don't—"

"Hush, little sister," Ryoma interrupted. "Just read."

Hinoka bristled at the interruption, but Ryoma hadn't even injected an order into it. She carefully slid the parchment paper out of its resting place, and from the moment her eyes landed on the first, impeccably drawn words, she knew this wasn't a letter from Corrin, a distressed mayor, or even one of their spies in the Nohrian court.

It was from Xander.

 _Dear Lord Ryoma:_

 _I've begun this letter about four times now, but I've never had the foggiest notion how to finish it. One has also gone to my father, so you needn't worry that you're receiving state secrets. And I suppose I should start from the beginning; it's the only sensible place left._

 _The Uzai have returned. They assaulted our base camp late two nights ago, slaughtered our guards, burned our fortress, and then disappeared into oblivion. We've been searching for a trace of them for the past forty-eight hours, with little success. So I suppose that cave up in the mountains near Ranwara was a hoax, after all. I'd quintuple-check your sources._

Hinoka's head snapped up. "The _Uzai?"_

But Ryoma was shaking his head, gesturing back to the letter. "Keep reading."

 _Now comes the unfortunate part that keeps giving me trouble. I've never found an artful way to say it, so perhaps there isn't one._

 _Militarily speaking, amongst the casualty count from that blasted midnight assault was our mutual sister, Corrin Mikotosdottír._

Hinoka's eyes shot wide, and she stopped reading. Xander's words blurred, and she suddenly felt as if she were falling. The next solid sensation was of Ryoma's broad chest thumping against her forehead, and Hinoka wrapped her arms around her older brother and squeezed as hard as she possibly could.

"This can't be," she hissed.

"Keep reading," said Ryoma.

Hinoka did as bidden, awkwardly over her brother's shoulder as he continued to hug her.

 _Familiarly speaking, however, there is no possible way I can encompass all the rage, grief, and sorrow that I now feel. I suppose the problem with this letter is that I've been trying._

 _If you're wondering why I'm telling you this, the answer is: it's the right thing to do._

"Ryoma…" Hinoka was at a loss for words.

 _The right thing to do?_ Did the Nohrians even care about such a thing? Hinoka's childhood lessons were at war with the Uzai Incident, as her brother had taken to calling it around prying ears. The Nohrians were every inch as stern, uncompromising, and fierce as she'd been taught, but Hinoka had never contemplated what that would be like to have on her side.

"Keep reading," Ryoma said, a third time.

 _I want to extend the invitation to you, Lady Hinoka, Lord Takumi, and Lady Sakura to attend Corrin's formal, state funeral in Windmire, though I doubt my father would allow for such a thing._

Hinoka's instincts _screamed_ that this was a trap, but Xander seemed aware of that as his letter continued.

 _So instead, I suppose my condolences will have to do, pitiful as they are._

 _Now is the part of the letter where I typically wish the recipient well. Given the current circumstances, however, that seems idiotic for a myriad of reasons. So instead, I shall leave you with this:_

 _Corrin had mentioned numerous times that Castle Shirasagi is truly breathtaking in the fall. Kindly enjoy it for her?_

 _Regretfully,_

 _Lord Xander Katerinasson_

 _Crown Prince of Nohr_

Hinoka read the letter over twice, still awkwardly trying not to stop hugging her brother while doing so, and only when there was nothing left to shock her did she finally set it down on the war table.

"I don't believe this," Hinoka said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. "You said Kaze came with this?"

"A brilliant tactical move," Ryoma said, sounding very far away. "He is the only one of their party we would unequivocally trust, except for Corrin…" His voice broke on her name, and he let go of Hinoka.

"What do you think are the odds this is a trap?" Hinoka asked. It would be an incredibly low blow, but it was a very real possibility.

"Very low," Ryoma answered. "What would he gain? The only place he's told us to meet him is Windmire, which he immediately shoots down. If this letter were from Lady Camilla, I would consider the possibility of it being an elaborate ruse, but Lord Xander?" Ryoma shook his head, his hair slipping further out of its topknot. "That just doesn't seem like him at all. _And_ this is his handwriting."

"That doesn't mean Lady Camilla didn't write it," Hinoka pointed out quietly. She wanted to believe Ryoma—wanted to believe that Xander wasn't lying—but the truth of his words was too awful to face. "Wait… he doesn't mention his other siblings all."

"And they didn't countersign," Ryoma added. "Which means this isn't an official letter."

"Or they died." It was surprisingly painful to consider, that Lady Camilla, and the mysterious Lord Leo, and the apparently bubbly Lady Elise had all perished alongside their sister.

"I don't think _anyone_ would be hearing from Lord Xander if he lost his entire family in one go," Ryoma said, "let alone us."

Hinoka was forced to admit, "You have a point."

Ryoma opened his mouth to say something, and then paused. "Wait, I know why you're being so difficult—"

"Hey!" Hinoka interrupted.

"—I forgot this." Ryoma reached into his yukata once again, and this time retrieved a teardrop-shaped gemstone roughly the size of his fist.

Hinoka's eyes snapped open once again, and she swore she was going to get dry eye before this morning was over. "Is that… Corrin's Dragonstone? She would never be parted from that, not unless…"

 _Not unless the worst had happened,_ she couldn't bring herself to say.

"It came with the letter," Ryoma offered when Hinoka trailed off.

Hinoka felt that same falling sensation from before, only this time, she managed to keep her footing. Her instincts were crying out, but she forced herself to admit it. "Then she really might be gone."

Ryoma nodded gravely. "And I intend to find out. Pack your things, little sister. We're going to the astral plane."

"Did you send him a reply?"

Ryoma shook his head. "No, and I don't intend to. If this is a trap, I won't die for it. And if it isn't…" Ryoma shut his eyes again, as if the horrible nature of this whole debacle could be lessened by not looking at it. "…at least we'll know."

Hinoka had no idea what to do. She felt so useless, wringing her hands about and trying to formulate something, _anything,_ to say. "Have you told Takumi and Sakura?"

"I sent for everyone at once, you're just the first to arrive." Ryoma opened his eyes again, somehow looking even more exhausted in the motion. "You don't have to stay, Hinoka."

"I _should,"_ Hinoka argued.

"Now isn't the time to be stubborn," Ryoma said, surprisingly gently. "I can tell our siblings the news. Why don't you write to Archduke Izana? I want to hold a wake in Izumo for Corrin, if we can't attend the funeral."

"Sure, of course." Hinoka was torn between what she felt like she should be doing, and what she would much prefer to _be_ doing. "Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself?"

Ryoma tried to smile, but he wasn't quite able to make his face work. "I offered, didn't I?"

Hinoka bowed, feeling her spine crack even in the movement. "Thank you," she said, mostly to the ground.

Instead of saying anything, Ryoma just set a hand to her head and tugged her upright again. They just looked at each other for a moment, neither quite sure what to say, and then Hinoka took her leave.

She ran into Sakura just outside the war room, and her little sister could have run all the way from the shrine, for how hard she was breathing. " _Oneesama?"_ Sakura said between gasps, as soon as she caught sight of Hinoka. _Big sister?_

But Hinoka could only shake her head. Her little sister was so innocent, so demure. This news would absolutely _wreck_ her, and Ryoma would be forced to deal with the repercussions alone. But Hinoka wasn't sure she could handle her grief and Sakura's, let alone Takumi's. It was all she could do to stay her course, eyes firmly locked forward.

"Let Ryoma tell you," Hinoka said.

She did not return to training that morning.

 **-)**

 **To those without PM:**

 **LilacFairy: I'm glad it gut punched as intended.**

 **Guest 1: Oh shit, indeed.**

 **Guest 2: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying my work :) Take your time to process**

 **Guest 3: Thank you! Fight scenes get tricky so honestly, I just leave them vague. And you'll find out whether Corrin is dead or not, eh?**


	46. Chapter 46

**Today's chapter is brought to you by Green Day's "Restless Heart Syndrome."**

 **Guest #1: Thanks so much for your kind words :) I'm glad my work makes your day.**

 **Guest #2: That was the intention.**

 **-)**

"I don't know _how_ you got here," said a very put-upon, irritated Jakob, "but I shall have to insist that you leave. My Lords and Ladies are not receiving visitors at this time."

Ryoma was trying his damnedest not to go off on this poor servant, who was very likely just doing his job (with his ribs visibly bandaged and walking with a cane, no less), but _Dawn Dragon,_ if he didn't want to. He counted to ten internally, and then opened his mouth to speak—

"Of course they aren't," Hinoka said sharply, "they just lost their sister."

Jakob's eyebrows shot into his hairline, a movement that he unfortunately couldn't camouflage. _Well,_ thought Ryoma dismally, _I suppose that's two tallies in the 'telling the truth' category._

"I don't know _where_ you heard the rumor that Lady Camilla or Lady Elise had—"

"And we _aren't_ visitors," Hinoka continued, as if Jakob hadn't spoken. "If you want to get technical about it, I guess we're family."

Little Sakura, still with her head bowed and unable to look Jakob in the eye, added, "S-she's our sister, too."

Jakob was spared from answering, for that was the exact moment that Laslow happened to be passing by the main gate. The grey-haired man did an almost comical double-take at the Hoshidan Royal Family, and then said, with visceral disbelief, "Lord Ryoma? Lady Hinoka?"

"Hello, Laslow," Hinoka said, trying not to feel too relieved. She had felt oddly unsettled the whole way to the astral plane, thinking of all the possible casualties the Nohrians could have sustained. When she'd mentioned it to Ryoma, he hadn't settled her nerves any, and it was surprisingly _hurtful_ to think that the rambunctious Odin hadn't survived the attack, or the sharp-tongued Selena, or the ever-smiling Laslow. "It's good to see you."

"Uh, Lord Takumi?" said the man himself, leaning around Ryoma's shoulder.

"Oh! So sorry." Laslow winced at himself. "Didn't see you there."

Takumi rolled his eyes, but said nothing more.

Laslow's feet carried him toward the group, before his common sense could kick in. "How did you get here?"

"Saizo." Ryoma jerked a thumb towards where his family's retainers had gathered around a wagon laden with trunks a polite distance away from the gate.

Laslow shook his head. "I guess I meant, what are you doing here?"

"Your lord sent me a letter." Ryoma slid the envelope slightly out of the inside pocket of his yukata for a moment.

Laslow's painted-on grin shrank away. "He wrote to you? About… her?"

All four royal heads nodded solemnly.

Laslow sighed. "I don't know why I'm surprised. That sounds exactly like a thing Lord Xander would do."

"So it's true, then?" Takumi couldn't help but press, and his siblings all held their breath.

Laslow nodded, blinking exhaustion out of his eyes. "I'm _so_ sorry for your loss."

Takumi staggered as if physically struck. "Where is she?"

Laslow could only stare at the impertinent prince for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to say it. "She… err, well, that is to say… Corrin is, um…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "Lord Xander made sure to find a suitable casket, at least for now." Laslow snapped his eyes open and turned to the injured butler. "Jakob, we can't just turn them away."

"Laslow, see reason," Jakob argued. "This is the _enemy!_ We can hardly just let them waltz right in after the other night."

Laslow forced himself to smile again—"And do they _look_ like they're here to launch a surprise assault?"—and gestured towards the Hoshidan royals.

All four of them—Ryoma, Hinoka, Takumi, and Sakura—were covered in road dirt, dressed in travelling clothes, and—generally speaking—scruffy-looking wanderers whose weapons were nowhere in sight (save Raijinto, which was always tucked into Ryoma's belt). The two men were sporting a few days' worth of stubble, their hair folded into messy topknots. The two women looked less worse for wear, but that was largely due to the fact that Hinoka's hair was typically a mess anyhow, and Sakura was looking mostly at the floor.

"Frisk them," said a cool, toneless voice.

Laslow jumped at Beruka's sudden appearance, and Jakob _would_ have, it not for the cane.

"And make them lock their weapons in their trunks," Beruka continued, un-rattled as ever. "Then it's just a fistfight, should it come to that." She glanced to Laslow. "I'd certainly trust Lord Xander in one."

"We're not here to fight," Ryoma said, somewhat quietly. "We're here to mourn."

Beruka cocked an eyebrow at him, her silence pointed.

Jakob sighed, defeated. "Beruka, kindly pat them down. I suppose I'll find _somewhere_ to put their things." He threw up an exasperated hand.

"I think the staff shop is still standing," Laslow offered.

Beruka thrust the small box she'd been carrying into Laslow's hands. "Hold this."

He spluttered, but didn't protest as Beruka strode forward. The Hoshidans, however, eyed her warily. This was Lady Camilla's _assassin,_ for the love of the Dawn Dragon. Being checked by Laslow or the butler would have been one thing, but a hired killer was quite another.

"I'll go first," Ryoma volunteered, as ever. "Sakura, would you hold Raijinto?"

The shrine maiden looked almost comical, hugging the massive samurai sword tight to her chest alongside her festal.

"Arms out," Beruka ordered, sizing up the Hoshidan High Prince. Had he always been so damn _large?_ She couldn't remember.

Ryoma did as asked, and Beruka made quick work of patting him down, checking for possible hidden weapons or pockets. Finding nothing, she quickly moved on to Hinoka, and then Takumi (whom she made a point of patting down twice), and then Sakura, who had since passed Raijinto back to her brother.

"Besides the sword," Beruka began, retrieving her box from Laslow, "they're clean."

Ryoma made a hand gesture in the air, not really toward anyone, but Kagero appeared by his side a moment later. "Would you lock this in my trunk?" he asked, handing her Raijinto.

Kagero nodded, said something in Hoshidan, and then disappeared once again.

Ryoma held up his bare hands, palms out, but said nothing.

Jakob sighed again. "I don't even know where to direct you, Prince Ryoma. My lieges are sort of… scattered."

"Who is p-playing music?" Sakura piped up.

It was then that her siblings noticed that there was, in fact, music in the air. The soft strains of something stringed and melancholy were dancing in and out of focus, as if the person playing were very far away, or underwater.

"That would be Lady Elise, milady…?" Laslow trailed off, expectantly.

Ryoma gave the known philanderer a stern look, but still said, "Sakura, this is Laslow. He's one of Lord Xander's retainers."

Sakura gave a little start, and then bowed politely. "Hello."

Laslow gave what he hoped was a winning smile. He really had no idea anymore. "Charmed, milady Sakura."

She turned back to her retainers, as if to escape social interaction. "Subaki, could you find my _koto?"_

"At once, milady!" the redheaded sky knight immediately began sorting through the trunks to find his liege's.

Laslow glanced to the butler. "Jakob, could you take Lady Sakura to Lady Elise?"

The white-haired man's eyes cruelly narrowed. "Do you think to order _me_ about, fop?"

Laslow sighed. "Jakob, this isn't really the time."

"Laslow and I have to return to Lord Xander and Lady Camilla," Beruka pointed out. "You, on the other hand, have been watching a gate all afternoon."

Jakob spluttered, all his wounds still too raw, but then Takumi interrupted: "Lady Camilla mentioned that Lord Leo is a lot like me. Does…" Takumi appeared at a loss for words. "Does he like shogi?"

Laslow paused to consider it. "Is that anything like chess?"

"Yeah, kind of." It wasn't Takumi who answered, but Ryoma.

"Then I'd wager he'd probably welcome the distraction," said Laslow diplomatically. "I'm sure he's in the library."

Beruka made a face. "As much as Lord Leo welcomes anything."

Hinoka snorted. "He really _is_ like you, Takumi."

"And where are Lady Camilla and Lord Xander?" Ryoma asked their respective retainers.

"If you follow the sound of rhythmic thumping," said Laslow, "there you'll find Lord Xander in the arena, breaking training dummies."

"Lady Camilla wishes to dye her hair back," said Beruka, shaking the box in her hands a little.

Hinoka winced, and looked to Ryoma. "That seems more like your area of expertise, _niisan."_

Ryoma sighed. "I suppose."

-)

Elise was sitting at the foot of her statue, running a bow over her violin's strings in every combination of melodies that she knew, and a few that she improvised.

Corrin had insisted on setting up statues for each of her siblings around the dais that overlooked the massive Dusk Dragon in the plaza. Elise had always found it creepy to see her siblings' faces etched in stone, but Corrin had just _insisted._

And so Elise found it only fair that she sat at the foot of the biggest present her big sister had ever given her while playing songs to her memory. She couldn't face the box they'd laid Corrin's body in, couldn't face that they would have to leave for Windmire in a few days to make it look like they'd all just come from some great battle, couldn't face that Xander was going to have to lie to father's face about why Corrin was gone—couldn't face any of it.

So instead, she faced forward, playing to the Dusk Dragon in the hopes that he would hear.

Odin had come by earlier, joining her in a few quiet duets before he continued on to look after Leo. _That was kind of him,_ Elise had thought as the mage went away, _he didn't need to do that._ Maybe he'd just wanted to play violin, too, or remember the happier days when he'd taught her how to hold the violin bow and press down on the strings and Corrin had clapped for her at recitals and—

"Hello," said a quiet, rather timid voice.

Elise looked up to find a girl about her age, dressed in very Hoshidan clothing and with a short, pinkish-red bob. "Hello," Elise returned, politely pausing in playing.

"That's very beautiful music," the girl offered.

Elise tried to smile, but her face was too tired, her eyes too dry from crying too much already. "Thank you. It's for my sister."

The Hoshidan girl also tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She seemed like she was too sad, too. "Would you mind if I played something for her, too?"

"No, go ahead." Elise laid her violin in her lap and tried to sit like a very proper young lady. "Do you want to borrow my violin?"

"No, thank you." The girl waved a redheaded man forward, one whom Elise had never seen before. "I brought my own instrument."

The man laid out what looked to be a wooden plank with strings stretched across its face directly on the ground. It was beautiful, the dark wood inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl in the outline of blossoms and cherry trees. The girl knelt before it and stretched her hands above the strings, resting in playing position for a moment before looking back up at the man, who bowed and departed, and then Elise.

"My name is Sakura," she offered.

"I'm Elise."

And the Hoshidan girl began to play.

At first, Elise found it very disjointed and almost jarring. But then the notes began to waterfall and pick up speed, spreading out across the air and evoking the same melancholy that her violin had, and Elise found herself crying again.

-)

Ryoma had followed Beruka to Camilla's tent, and the assassin had told him to wait outside while she informed her mistress. And so Ryoma was left standing out in the open, waiting. He heard nothing from inside Camilla's tent, and although he felt the distinct sense that he shouldn't enter a lady's private quarters, he felt the situation grave enough to forgive the impropriety.

He waited a few more minutes, and then called out, "Lady Camilla? Beruka?"

The Princess' voice called out: "Terribly sorry, but I'm not in a state to receive visitors at present."

"Of course you aren't," Ryoma called back as kindly as he could. "You just lost your sister."

All was quiet for a long moment, and then Lady Camilla herself appeared in the doorway. She was wrapped in a silken robe, her hair tumbling down her shoulders and streaked through with lilac purple.

"Well don't just stand there catching flies," she said brusquely. "You might as well come in."

Her tent was oddly empty, Ryoma thought as he entered. There was a cot, a trunk, a small table and chairs, and a little vanity that already had a bowl of purple hair dye sitting atop it. Beruka was standing at attention, looking distinctly uncomfortable as she held a wide-toothed comb and towel.

Ryoma felt distinctly out of place, with his broad shoulders and towering height. _I wonder if Lord Xander ever meets her here?_ The Nohrian prince was probably taller than the ceiling, too.

Camilla was quiet as she seated herself at the vanity again, not looking at him but instead in the mirror. "Seat yourself anywhere," she said coolly. "I'll have Selena bring tea when she returns."

"Aren't you curious why I'm here?" Ryoma couldn't help but ask.

"My brother told you," Camilla said softly, "didn't he?"

Ryoma nodded gravely. "Yes, he did."

"I knew it." She sighed. "Xander and his damned manners."

Ryoma didn't know what to say to that, so he instead changed topics. "Beruka mentioned you've been having some hair troubles?"

Camilla huffed, glaring at her hair in the mirror. "I can't get it back to purple. I've been trying all afternoon." She nearly shoved the dye into the mirror and gave up the whole affair, but Beruka's effort to find the dye stopped her. She was not a tyrant who sent servants on needless errands, nor was she a child throwing temper tantrums.

Ryoma moved to stand behind her, still a respectable distance away. "If I recall correctly, your hair was brown when we last met, wasn't it?"

Camilla sighed—"Yes, to hide me in plain sight."—and lifted her hair away from her shoulders, pointing to the roots just above the nape of her neck.

Ryoma tried not to gawk (really, her _nape?_ Were Nohrian women always so forward, or was it just that Corrin's loss had choked her with enough grief to forget such things?), and studied her hair a moment. "Oh, I see," he finally managed. "You dyed it back to your natural color."

"Close to, anyway," Camilla said, mercifully putting her hair down again. "But now I can't get it _back."_

"Have you tried bleaching it first?" Ryoma asked, folding his arms across his broad chest.

Camilla froze, and then turned to face him. "Do you think that would work?"

"It should," Ryoma said. "I believe that's how Orochi always managed it."

Camilla finally met Ryoma's eyes. "Do you help her often?"

"Other way around," Ryoma said. "How else do you think I manage so much hair?"

Camilla gave a very unladylike snort, and then a short, breathless little laugh. "Okay, Ryoma," she said. "Okay, let's give it a go. Beruka?" The assassin snapped to. "Could you bring my hair kit over here, darling?"

Ryoma watched in fascination as Camilla mixed together a bit of powder and water in a bowl, and soon the familiar, acidic smell reached his nose. Hair care had always reminded him a bit of the royal apothecary, the way it mixed and matched powders and herbs.

He realized he was hovering a moment later. "Here," he said, catching her hand before she began working with the bleach. "Let me help."

Camilla looked stunned. "Isn't this a bit beneath you?"

Ryoma was taken aback. "No? Why would you think so?"

Camilla was at a loss as she handed him a pair of gloves to protect his hands from the bleach mixture. Ryoma wriggled his hands into the white gloves, which were, as most things went, a bit too small for him. But they would do.

Ryoma went about the process with a practiced hand, applying little bits of the bleach paste here and there and working them into Camilla's voluminous mane. _It's sort of soothing, being taken care of._ Camilla had almost forgotten.

"So why _do_ you have so much hair?" she asked in a feeble stab at small talk.

"It's sort of a family tradition," the High Prince said, still concentrating on what he was doing. "My father, King Sumeragi, was notorious amongst the servants for clogging the bath drains."

Camilla supposed it was improper, but she laughed a little anyway. _Can servants really complain about their kings that way, in Hoshido? And to have the royal family find out?_ It was unthinkable. "And how much hair did _he_ have?"

"Even more than me," Ryoma assured her. "Alright, Camilla, you'll have to shut your eyes. Beruka, could you help me wash it out?"

The assassin eyed the Hoshidan Prince warily as she held out the bowl of clean water. She helped dunk all of Camilla's hair into the water, clean it, and catch it in a towel. Bit by bit, the dark brown lightened, the bleach paste falling away and turning the water murky. What was Lord Ryoma's angle, his goal? _Everyone has one, particularly men around Lady Camilla._

But Ryoma was quiet and methodical as he began working the lilac dye back into Camilla's hair. He said nothing untoward, pried into nothing, and amiably chatted when the princess made an attempt to be a proper hostess. But it was so _hard,_ to just be normal.

Camilla began to weep again, and Ryoma, to his credit, did not intrude on her grief. The samurai's calloused hands just continued working through her dark tresses, and with each section of hair that was brought back to purple, the Malig Knight began to find herself in her face again, and her mother disappeared from her reflection.

-)

The library was dim and musty, just like the one in Castle Shirasagi. Takumi would have laughed if it weren't so damn _quiet._ It was like walking into a graveyard, except with books (and a few scrolls, Takumi was pleased to note).

Lord Xander's retainer had said that Lord Leo was probably here, but so far Takumi and Hinata had found neither hide nor hair of _anyone,_ let alone a prince. Takumi was about to give up on this whole stupid endeavor when he, quite literally, stumbled into a table that was so laden with books he'd missed the cloaked figure behind them.

"Watch it," growled the figure, its arm shooting out to catch a burning candle before it toppled over.

Takumi's brow furrowed. "Are you Lord Leo?"

The cloaked figure sat back, drawing itself to its full, seated height. First a head of blond hair appeared, and then calculating, deeply brown eyes, a sharply pointed nose, and an angry frown. "Yes."

"I'm Lord Takumi, and—"

"I know who you are," the other prince interrupted. "Third in line to the Hoshidan throne, accomplished archer, bit of a whiner. You tried to kill my older brother under a cease-fire. Why. Are. You. _Here?"_ The last few words were practically bitten off.

Takumi was struck with a momentary loss for words, but someone else beat him to it:

"He's not armed, my lord," said a smooth, drawling voice. "Beruka wouldn't have let him in the fortress, if he were."

"You mean the assassin? She patted me down _twice."_ Takumi held up the requisite fingers.

Niles forced a laugh. "That sounds like my Beruka."

"I won't ask again," Leo growled.

"I'm here to kick your ass at shogi." Takumi thumped down the board he'd been carrying onto the table. "I'm told it's like your chess."

Leo narrowed his eyes. "That's it? Nothing about Corrin, or how you even got here? Just… _shogi?"_ The Hoshidan word dripped like poison from the Nohrian's tongue.

"I don't want to talk about Corrin with you any more than you want to talk about Corrin with me," Takumi said. "So let's just play shogi, okay?"

For a long moment, Takumi was certain the Nohrian was going to tell him to piss off. But then—"What are the rules?" Leo began clearing away the books he'd been reading and setting his notes in order.

Takumi snapped open the shogi board, which was designed for travellers and held all the pieces enclosed while shut, and out fell the rules insert. He handed them over to Leo, and then began setting various tiles in their squares. "I'll give you a minute to look those over, and then let's play."

Leo's face wrinkled in distaste. "They're in Hoshidan."

"I know, that's why I brought Hinata." Takumi jerked a thumb towards the samurai. "He'll translate for you, and that way you can't accuse me of cheating."

 _"_ _I_ will translate for Lord Leo," Niles interrupted. "Let me see the rules."

Leo handed the pamphlet over to Niles, and the archer began reading them over. Takumi cocked an eyebrow, still setting tiles in their starting places. "You never mentioned you could speak Hoshidan, Niles."

"Best to keep an ace in your sleeve," Niles replied without looking up.

Hinata, however, was throttled. "You mean you could understand us _the whole time?"_

Niles made a wishy-washy motion with hand. "By the end of it, yeah."

Takumi shooed Hinata out of the library before he made a complete scene, and by the time the samurai had calmed down, Leo had learned the rules. The two princes took up their places across from each other, the black and the white, the Nohrian and the Hoshidan.

And like their younger sisters, they began to play.

-)

 _One, two, three, and… four._

 _One, two, three, and… four!_

With an earsplitting crack, the training dummy split down the middle. The silence of the empty arena rang in Xander's ears, punctuated only by his heavy breathing. His sword arm was numb, his fingers curled tightly around the wooden training sword largely from habit. His shirt was soaked in sweat, his feet bare, and Siegfried stabbed into the sand off to the side, where it wouldn't be in the way but Xander could still keep an eye on it.

He had been at this since sun-up, pausing only briefly when Peri had come stomping in and insisting that he eat something ("It's my job to take care of you, and you're making it really hard!" she'd said). Peri had practiced with him for a while, but the cavalier had other duties to attend to, and Xander wasn't about to keep her.

Never mind that he, too, had other duties to attend to. He still had no idea what he was going to tell his father in the formal report, nor how he would bear delivering the news a second time. _Corrin is dead, father. There were these invisible creatures we'd teamed up with the Hoshidan Royals to eliminate, and oh, by the way, we call them something in Hoshidan that's actually an insult. They snuck in one night after we all got drunk and they laid waste to half the camp before murdering your favorite child, whom your dragon-god told you to spare._

He would lose his head before he could so much as think to draw Siegfried.

 _What good is a legendary sword that doesn't save the ones you love?_ Xander staked another training dummy into the arena's sandy floor, and took up striking position once again. _For make no mistake, Xander Garonsson, you loved her._ And _oh_ , how it hurt to admit. He had thought that maybe— _just_ maybe—if he threw himself deeply enough into his duties as Crown Prince and wartime general, he could shake those feelings that she had told him she'd never return. He would bury them under ten pounds of duty and twenty pounds of grit, and never look back.

 _It would have worked; I know it._ Never mind that it hadn't, and Camilla had known from the second week of his attempts that it wasn't going to. But what else could he have done? It would hardly do to mope and pine and whatever else people who weren't Crown Princes had the luxury of doing. Xander had to keep pushing forward, even at the cost of himself; it was the Nohrian way.

"Hey, stranger." The voice echoed in the empty arena.

Xander whirled to face the noise, the wooden practice sword in striking position, as if it could actually _do_ something. He blinked—once, twice, thrice—but the mirage remained. He would recognize that fiery red hair anywhere; there was nothing like it anywhere in Nohr.

"Hinoka?" he asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.

She smiled at him, the motion tired-looking even from all the way across the arena. "You know, I'm a lot more fun that a practice dummy." She idly twirled a practice lance, taken from one of the various weapons racks on the way in no doubt, and then dropped into a battle stance. "I can take it."

Xander's brain had finally shorted out, one half from exhaustion, and one half from the fact that in no universe, in no combination of ways, did Hinoka's sudden appearance make _any blasted sense._

"You shouldn't be here," he rasped.

Hinoka shrugged, breaking position to walk over to where Xander stood. She wasn't exactly his height, but she could look him in the eye, which was more than most people could boast. "We just lost our sister," she said, more quietly than was characteristic. "'Should' is irrelevant."

"All that's left is 'should,'" Xander returned, just as quietly.

Hinoka shook her head. "All that's left is 'is.'"

Xander studied the Hoshidan woman for a long moment. There were dark circles under her eyes too, and she looked road-weary. But her spine was straight and she didn't flinch at going toe-to-toe with the ruthless Crown Prince.

"I take it Ryoma told you?" Xander asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"You did, actually."

There was something _intensely_ uncomfortable with the concept that Hinoka had read his letter to Ryoma, but Xander was certain what it was. It was one thing to write a letter to one's foreign counterpart; Xander did that all the time. It was quite another for… well, Xander wasn't sure what. Someone else to read it? Said foreign counterpart's sister to read it? It felt like being talked about in a room while you were righ there? _No, none of that._

"I know you don't like to talk," Hinoka said, the ghost of a smile across her lips, "but you're still here."

 _So I know you hurt,_ remained unspoken between them.

"Very well." Xander brought the practice sword to striking level. "Attend!"

The first time he made contact with her lance jarred him from his numb fingers all the way to his core. Earlier when he'd dueled Peri, she'd been practicing with a sword, partially due to the unfair advantage lances held over swords. But Hinoka held nothing back. Using the borrowed lance as an extension of herself, she parried almost as if she were using a quarterstaff instead of a halberd. Xander almost felt like he ought to take notes to give to Peri.

He reveled in the challenge of a difficult opponent. The practice dummies were good for nothing more than destruction at this point in his military career, but real opponents gave him the opportunity to think, to analyze, to grow as a strategist. He felt himself grinning as they dueled, and had he been able to see beyond his grief in that moment, he would have seen that Hinoka was, too.

She was his equal and his counterpoint, parrying and retaliating with ease and aplomb. For each hit he landed on her, she landed one on him, until they were both covered in bruises. There was no room for thought beyond calculating her next move, no room for grief in the middle of this chaos.

That is, until their practice weapons met at the wrong point, and both practice sword and practice lance finally gave in and cracked right up the middle. They fell away, leaving splintered wood and jarred muscles in their wake, until Xander and Hinoka were simply breathing hard and staring at each other amidst the wreckage they'd created.

-)

Many years later, no one was quite sure how it had happened. Leo and Takumi had finished a game of shogi (current tally: Leo: 2, Takumi: 3), and decided to stretch their legs. They had run into their sisters playing an improved duet for violin and koto, and had naturally stopped to listen.

Then Ryoma and Camilla had appeared, the Malig Knight's hair gloriously lilac once again. They were drawn to this place, Ryoma in his driving desire to know, and Camilla in her driving sense of grief. They stopped to listen to their sisters' playing, and Camilla tried very hard not to cry again.

And then Hinoka and Xander had appeared, covered in sweat and bruises. There was exhaustion written in every line of Xander's features, but Hinoka seemed like she'd been struck by lightning and had nothing to do with the extra energy.

And then all eight of her siblings stood before Corrin's coffin.

It was little more than a wooden box, procured from one of the nearby towns, made of rough-hewn wood and meant to be nailed shut. It hadn't been, since her siblings would ensure Corrin received a burial befitting of her station, and so the lid sat slightly ajar.

No one stopped Ryoma from silently moving forward, particularly not himself. Sakura and Elise had stopped playing, the former now on her feet as she watched her older brothers with eyes wide. The samurai stepped lithely around the statues, until his shaking hands were resting atop the coffin.

He glanced back, only to find four very grim Nohrian faces, and three hesitant Hoshidan ones. _None of us look much like Corrin,_ Ryoma mused, a bit blackly. He wasn't even certain there was a portrait of her in Castle Shirasagi. Did Castle Krakenburg have one? Did it matter? _Of course it does. What sort of talk is that?_

With a swift, decisive movement, Ryoma pushed aside the lid of the coffin.

Until this exact moment, he could have still believed this all to be some elaborate ruse or trap set out by the Nohrians. But the moment that he moved the lid, saw the flashes of silver and navy blue and the gaping wound, was the exact moment that the world forever shattered.

Ryoma was set back, reeling. Hinoka rushed forward to support him, only to feel bile rise in her throat at the sight of her baby sister, lying inert in her casket. Takumi was torn between wanting to support his siblings and wanting to go nowhere near that damn wooden nightmare, and Sakura was frozen in place, her worst fears confirmed by her steadfast older siblings.

Hinoka and Ryoma, still leaning heavily on each other, rejoined the rest of their siblings at the opposite end of the dais. Then Ryoma gently pushed his sister away to take stock of his younger siblings. It was a headcount he'd completed a hundred times before, and in a thousand different ways. Hinoka's teeth were gritted, her hands balled into fists. Takumi looked like he was moments away from destroying the nearest breakable object before breaking into tears himself, and Sakura was eerily still, her face unmoving and tears, silent.

But then Ryoma turned an eye to the Nohrians.

Elise was looking intently at her new friend, unshed tears shining in her eyes, but it seemed like something was preventing her from reaching out. Leo was deathly still, aggressively biting down on his lower lip probably to keep from crying. Camilla was silently sobbing into her sleeves, making no sound and unwilling to seek comfort. And Xander—the indomitable Crown Prince of Nohr—had sunk his teeth into the webbing between his thumb and index finger, as if he were undergoing surgery and needed to stifle the inevitable screaming. The older three could not take their eyes off the plain wooden casket.

Ryoma wasn't sure what possessed him to reach out, but he was faintly aware when his hand made contact with Xander's shoulder and squeezed. The Nohrian visibly started, jerked his gaze towards the source, and then, inexplicably, reached out and clasped Ryoma's shoulder—a perfect mirror.

It was as if a dam had broken amongst the two families. Elise broke away from her violin to pull Sakura into the tightest hug she could possibly manage, and the shrine maiden hugged her right back, just as hard. It became impossible to tell where one girl's crying starting and the other's began.

Leo and Takumi looked to each other, each of them covering his mouth as if to prevent any sound from leaking. The other hand reached out, just like their older brothers', to hold the other one steady.

Hinoka threw her arms around Camilla without ceremony, and the Nohrian absolutely broke. There was no way of curtailing her sobs now, but she tried her damnedest to bury her head in her counterpart's shoulder and muffle them. Tears streamed down her own face, but Hinoka couldn't find it in her to care.

They stood like that until the light had long since faded from the skies, the ruling families of two warring countries comforting one another in their all-consuming grief.

There was no moon that night.


	47. Chapter 47

Xander found himself staring the ceiling of his tent, and not for the first time that evening. _Or is it morning?_ He genuinely had no idea what time it was, but he knew he'd caught a few fitful hours of sleep. He was too awake to sleep and too tired to think. He debated rolling over, but in his half-aware state, every time he shut his eyes, all he saw was Corrin's limp form falling to the ground, impaled by a Levin Sword.

Determining sleep to be vastly overrated, Xander threw off the covers and decided that he might as well pay Siegmund a visit.

The Astral Plane was all but silent at this time of morning. It was too late for stragglers coming in from the bars, but too early for overachievers like Effie and Arthur to have begun their morning workouts (although, Xander supposed, it would just be Arthur, now). The oil urns were burning on their posts, cleanly spaced throughout the camp to provide light and warning, and Xander almost felt he had to squint, the fire burned so brightly against the night. _No one's taking any chances anymore._ Luckily, his feet knew the way to the stables without the help of his brain.

The familiar smell of horse and hay—so typically an assault—welcomed him that morning, enveloping him in familiarity (and stink). The quiet crunch of dried straw beneath his boots quietly reminded Xander of the perma-snow at the Northern Fortress, and all those fruitless mornings he'd spent attempting to teach Corrin how to ride. How stubborn she was, how endearingly irritating. It was hard to stay angry with her when she would turn around and look at him with those big, ruby eyes and he'd momentarily forget how to breathe.

As Xander rounded on his destrier's stall, he became increasingly aware of a small, arrhythmic noise echoing off the stable walls. _I'm not alone._ His fingers curled around the hilt of the hunting knife at his hip. Siegfried was under lock and key in his tent, too heavy and obvious for quiet mornings like this, but Xander wasn't deluded enough to go anywhere unarmed.

Not anymore.

Xander crept toward the focus of the sound, careful not to make a sound and at the ready to strike. He was vaguely reminded of those times his first retainers, Dedrick and Hildehrand, had taught him to hunt—a tradition he'd later passed onto Leo, who'd unsurprisingly had no patience for it.

But nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight of Hinoka—stubborn, foul-mouthed Lady Hinoka—curled into a tight ball in the corner of Akatsuki's borrowed stall.

Weeping.

It had been one thing when she'd been first struck by the unmovable weight that Corrin was really, truly dead. Everyone had been crying yesterday afternoon. But he'd somehow always thought of Hinoka as just as stubborn as he was. Weeping didn't suit her, nor her worldview, nor probably her pride.

Xander snapped from alert to concerned, twenty-odd years of looking after younger sisters kicking into gear before embarrassment or manners. "Hello," he murmured, dropping to a crouch before the redheaded Hoshidan princess.

Hinoka's head snapped up, brown eyes full of blazing rage, even as they continued to shed water. "Piss off," she barked, her voice soft and hoarse and taking all the bite out of it.

Xander smiled, but only just. "And leave a lady in distress? Perish the thought."

"Nohrians," Hinoka tried to scoff, but her voice broke on the word.

She buried her head in her knees again, and the sight was so utterly pitiful, Xander felt he had little choice but to bring her into the circle of protection that little Elise had so often sought in her big brother's arms.

At his touch, Hinoka simply broke. Her fingers clutched at his shirtfront, gripping the fabric so tightly her knuckles turned white, as she sobbed into his chest. First the tears came silently, angrily, and then loudly enough for Akatsuki to whinny with agitation, and perhaps concern.

For his part, Xander simply held her and let her cry. There was nothing he could say, and even less he could do. His fingers threaded gently through her hair, combing through the wild strands in the way Elise had always found soothing, and he found himself wishing he knew how to say "I'm so sorry" in Hoshidan in any way that would matter.

"I failed her." Hinoka's voice cut into the silence. "I wasn't there when she needed me most, and I failed her."

"I _was_ there, and I failed her," Xander said quietly, and without looking at her.

"Bullshit," Hinoka barked. She tried to pull out of Xander's grasp, but found she couldn't make herself do it, and so she remained, frozen, held in place by a Nohrian. "Camilla told me what was left of that Uzai's corpse."

"And did she tell you I was a fraction of a second too late to save Corrin's life?"

Hinoka winced at her sister's name. "Not exactly."

"At full gallop, using Siegfried's magic, and it didn't matter." Xander shuddered at the memory. "Some knight I am."

"Some knights _we_ are," Hinoka corrected him. "Did…" She paused, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer to her next question. "Did Corrin suffer?"

Something in Xander's face softened, perhaps in pain. "No. But the rest of us will in her stead."

Hinoka then asked the question that had haunted her for days: "What happened?" Corrin was so accomplished a warrior, had so many retainers willing to die in her place. How could _she,_ of all people, fall?

Xander shut his eyes, wishing he had something to hide behind, like a title, or Siegfried, or his father's name. "She slipped," he said. "I'm sure you know she never wore any blasted shoes, and she just…" He made a useless motion with a hand. "… _slipped_ , at the wrong moment."

Hinoka didn't move from her place at his chest, trying to process this information. "That's it?" she finally asked, her voice very small. "You're sure?"

Xander nodded gravely. "I watched it happen."

Hinoka let loose with a fiery string of curses, and although they were in Hoshidan, Xander could surmise the gist. At the end of it, she seemed even more exhausted, drawing even further into his chest, as if she could blot out everything with the fabric of his shirt.

"Do you know why I became a sky knight?" Her voice was muffled, and she didn't wait for an answer. "After Corrin was kidnapped, I was so mad, I didn't know what to do with myself. On several occasions, I snuck out of the castle, thinking I could save her." Hinoka snorted at her child-self. "But I was always stopped, either by castle staff, Ryoma, or even Mikoto herself. I was just so _angry_ that the Nohrians had stolen her away from us... And I was mad at myself for not being able to do anything about it."

Xander opened his mouth to speak, but Hinoka wasn't done: "And now here I am, making a mess of their Crown Prince's shirt, and for what?" She finally released him, giving herself a push upright. "Crying won't bring my sister back."

Hinoka's eyes were nearly as red as her hair, and Xander felt his insides twist.

"Neither will self-loathing," he said.

"You sure?" Hinoka said, making a stabbing, artless attempt at a joke. "Between the two of us, I think we could probably manage it."

"Self-loathing didn't bring my mother back," Xander said with quiet force. "It didn't save Camilla from her mother's wrath, and it didn't save Leo from himself. It won't save you, Hinoka; let it go."

"Don't tell me what to do," she said, although she, too, was quiet.

"Consider it friendly advice, then."

Hinoka huffed, and suddenly couldn't meet his eye. How on _earth_ was she supposed to let any of this go?

"How do you do it?" Hinoka finally asked. "Bury all this rage that I _know_ you must feel?" She reached out and placed her hand over his heart, as if she could find his anger boiling beneath the surface of his skin and keeping pace with her own.

At her touch, Xander grew incredibly still. "Hinoka, in three days, I have to stand before my father, dry-eyed, and give him the mission report. If I were in the habit of letting my emotions consume me, I would have died long ago."

Hinoka's face screwed up, not with tears, but in confusion. "Your own father won't let you mourn?"

"I'm the Crown Prince." Xander absentmindedly set his hand over hers, as if he had thought to remove it but stopped partway through. "I don't belong to myself, I belong to Nohr and her people…" He stopped, suddenly choked.

Hinoka was looking at him with such unguarded tenderness that Xander couldn't meet her gaze. "I know you loved her," she said. "Anyone with eyes could."

His head snapped up. "You're not serious." It was supposed to be a question, but couldn't quite reach the timbre.

"You do a good job of hiding it, but you'll never stamp it all out." Hinoka paused. " _Would_ never, I guess."

Xander tried to breathe evenly, but the motions wouldn't come. "Hinoka, please tell me you haven't—"

"Of course not." Hinoka jerked her hand out from beneath his, and folded her arms across her chest. "It isn't my secret." Xander's shoulders relaxed by the barest modicum, and now that she was up close, Hinoka could see how much tension still remained. She softened, just a little, her arms unfolding. "Did Corrin know?"

"If it's all the same to you," Xander said, "I'd rather not discuss it."

"It isn't," Hinoka said, preparing to stand once again, "but I won't pry."

When Xander didn't move, she paused. He had his head in his hand, and he wasn't looking anywhere, least of all at her. Hinoka's brow furrowed and she settled back into _seiza,_ still studying him.

"It was my birthday last year," he finally said, his voice hoarse. "Late October. Camilla and Leo convinced me to have a few too many, and when I announced that I needed to go to bed, Corrin said the same."

Hinoka felt her throat tighten. She could already see the oncoming wreck.

"And so being who I am, I offered to escort her back to her room, which is..." He winced. "… _was_ in the tower clear opposite Camilla's, where we all had been. As I'm walking with her there, she…" Xander made another useless gesture with his hand. "She just kept _looking_ at me. Like she was seeing something different, something else. And she was chattering about nothing and everything like she does, and goes quiet when we reach the door to her room. She turns to me, still smiling, still _looking,_ and I, um—"  
"You kissed her?" Hinoka inputted.

"Yes." Xander sighed. "And Corrin goes completely stiff and I realize something is wrong. When I go to ask what it is, I hear, ' _What are you doing?'"_

Hinoka winced; Xander's imitation of Corrin's voice was nearly pitch perfect.

"I'm confused, and intoxicated, and all I can say is, 'Isn't this what you've been getting at this whole evening?'

"And Corrin says, ' _Of course not,_ I consider you a _brother!'"_

"And that's when everything went to shit?" Hinoka offered helpfully.

Xander sighed, and buried his head in both of his hands this time. "And that's when everything went to shit," he agreed.

They were both silent for a moment.

"You know," Xander mumbled, "I still can't drink _märzenbier_ , which is a travesty. It used to be my favorite."

"Can't drink what?" Hinoka asked.

"Oktoberfest beer," Xander elaborated. "That's what's in season during my birthday. Elise's wet nurse used to joke that I really _am_ October's child, full of sorrow, passion—and _märzen."_

Hinoka laughed, just a little. "Maybe you should try it again, sometime. Isn't Oktoberfest coming up?"

"Yes," Xander said, sounding very far away. "Maybe." He blinked, and seemed to come back to himself. "But I don't know why I'm telling you any of this."

Hinoka shrugged, but it failed to bring levity. "Grief does weird things to people."

Xander shook his head. "You'd think I'd be used to it, by now."

For some reason, that pissed Hinoka off. "Grief isn't a thing to _get_ used to."

"Maybe not in Hoshido," Xander snapped back, "but it is in Nohr."

"And do you ever wonder why that is?"

"Because my people are _starving,_ and their king would rather wage war!"

There was a pregnant pause, during which the Crown Prince of Nohr and the Heir to the Hoshidan Crown stared each other down with fire and fury and the weight of everything they'd lost to the other's kingdom.

And then they found each other, reflected in the other's posture, their grief, their rage. Xander had always thought of Ryoma as his mirror in Hoshido, but perhaps he was wrong.

Perhaps it was Hinoka.

"I don't want to fight you, Xander," came tumbling out of Hinoka's mouth, and she found herself surprised by how true it was. Shouldn't she want to avenge King Sumeragi? The villagers at Cheve?

"I'm not…" Xander searched for a word. Shouldn't he want to carry the Nohrian banner in his father's name? "… _trying_ to fight you, Hinoka."

This time, Hinoka was the one to move, to reach out and embrace the other. As ever, Xander jumped at human contact, but when he settled, he didn't break so much as fold. Tension and frustration drained from him, leaving only weariness in their wake.

He did not weep.

-)

Ryoma found himself heading toward Lady Camilla's tent that morning with only the vaguest notion of why. She seemed to be a creature like him, not made for sitting still and waiting, especially in a crisis. And Ryoma knew that the last place he wanted to be at a time like this was left alone, so here he was.

He caught her just outside, somehow alone. She flashed him a tight smile. "Lord Ryoma," she greeted carefully, "good morning."

"Good morning, Lady Camilla," he responded. "Where are you off to so early?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular." Camilla wouldn't meet his eyes. "Simply couldn't stand the sight of my tent anymore."

Ryoma tried to smile, but the gesture wouldn't come. "Then perhaps would you like to accompany me to survey the damage to your camp's walls? Your brother mentioned they'd taken a beating."

Camilla finally looked at him then, violet eyes ice-like. "Look, Lord Ryoma, I'm not certain _what_ I did to imply that I'm interested in you, but you'll have to excuse me for it, because I haven't—"

Abruptly, Camilla cut off her own would-be rant when Ryoma—the High Prince of Hoshido, and a Lord—bowed low, his thick hair parting across his shoulders.

"It is I who should ask for forgiveness," Ryoma said quietly, and without looking up. "I didn't mean to imply that I sought anything from you besides your friendship." He straightened back up, his face a twisted mask of sorrow and grief. "You see, my heart belongs to another."

For the longest time, Camilla could only stare at him. What on _earth_ did he mean, he wasn't angling for something? It could have been as simple as bedding her or as complex as state secrets, but _no one_ —and _certainly_ not men who weren't Leo or Xander—came to her empty-handed, metaphorically or otherwise.

There was wetness in her eyes, and Camilla didn't know why. "Honestly, Ryoma, that's sort of a relief."

He let out a sigh of his own. "Isn't it, though? As the unmarried heir, I'd sort of given up on the notion I could simply befriend someone, let alone a woman."

Camilla hadn't quite realized until this moment, "I think I had too—in reverse, of course."

"Shall we start again, then?" Ryoma offered a hand.

"Oh, I _suppose_ ," said Camilla airily, shaking it.

Their callouses didn't match up—one from sword and one from axe—but their grips did.

"Whoever she is," Camilla said, almost to herself, "she's a lucky lady, indeed."

Something dark passed over Ryoma's face. "Was, actually."

Camilla's hands flew to her mouth. "I am _so_ sorry, I was—"

"You didn't know," Ryoma cut in gently. "I honestly still don't believe it myself, sometimes."

"Was she a solider?" Camilla felt compelled to ask.

Ryoma nodded. "A wyvern lord, actually. She worked mostly out of Cheve."

Camilla felt her stomach drop beyond her boots. "Ryoma… did she wear red armor, and set chips of broken glass into her spear?"

Confusion wrote itself across the Hoshidan Prince's broad features. "You knew Scarlet?"

Camilla's eyes were wide, her spirit already miles away. "I think I killed her."

Ryoma could only stare at her, dumbfounded. "You were at the Massacre at Cheve?"

"To us, it's the end of the Chevois Rebellion," Camilla said distantly, "but, yes. It was Corrin's first victory as a general. Leo and Elise were there, but Xander was off on another errand for father…"

Fury exploded beneath Ryoma's ribs, but it was dampened by grief and confusion. How could this be? How could the woman whom he'd seen comfort his sisters, dote on her own, cleave through the Crescent Butchers, and joke with her brothers _possibly_ be the one who had murdered Scarlet at the Massacre at Cheve? How could he possibly associate the monster he'd known the Nohrian army to be with one single Wyvern Rider?

 _It isn't fair,_ said a small, childish voice in the back of his head.

"Oh, good," inputted a new voice. "That's one less person I need to find."

Ryoma and Camilla, snapped out of themselves, both turned to find a very tired-looking Xander headed towards them. Ryoma couldn't help but notice that he looked so much _smaller_ without his armor, or the heavy Nohrian fashions. As if his muscle had been built on whipcord, instead of stone.

"Whatever do you mean?" Camilla asked.

"Our mutual sister," Xander said, "has something she'd like to share with us."

Ryoma and Camilla could only stare. "We don't _have_ another mutual sister," Ryoma finally managed.

"Sure we do," Xander said. "We just so happen to call her 'cousin.'"

 **-)**

 **Len: Curious why you think Corrin isn't dead. also, no, it isn't a typo-it is meant to say years. and some koto are smaller than others (according to the youtube videos I'd been watching, anyway), so no answers for you there. It is Sakura and Elise's support conversation, though.**

 **Guest: I added magical bullshit to this chapter, just for you:)**


	48. Chapter 48

Azura paced the length of the half-charred treehouse for the umpteenth time as she waited. She had told Xander days ago she wanted to speak with him, but she supposed it was only fair that he'd been so wrapped up in his grief, he'd forgotten.

 _She_ had certainly forgotten things in the time between then and now. She'd walked out of her tent with only one shoe the other morning, and another, gotten hopelessly lost just trying to find Kaze's tent, where she'd been a hundred times before.

 _I'm sure they'll still care for you, whatever it is you have to say,_ the green-haired ninja had said last night, when Azura had voiced her doubts. _I can't imagine what you could possibly say to make them hate you._

Oh, but Azura could. She knew _exactly_ what would make Xander, Camilla, Ryoma, and Hinoka hate her, and it was the truth. She couldn't bear to face all eight of her adoptive siblings at once, and so Azura had asked Xander to only gather the older ones.

She paced again, counting to twelve in one direction and twelve back in the other. How long had it been since she'd asked Xander to get the others and meet her here? An hour? Two hours? Five minutes?

A noise in the direction of the trapdoor snapped the dancer to attention, but a moment later she relaxed when a familiar head of blond curls came through the floor—followed, of course, by the rest of him. Xander then turned to give Camilla a hand up, but Hinoka actively refused the help. Ryoma came up last, rounding out the unlikely foursome.

"Alright, Azura," Xander said, folding his arms across his broad chest, "you wished to speak with us?"

"Really, darling, this place is dreary," Camilla added, eyeing the charred walls with distaste (which was, largely, to keep herself from bursting into tears). "Wouldn't you rather speak in my tent, or Xander's?"

"That would be easier," Azura was forced to admit, "but not kinder."

"Stop playing sage," Hinoka said, and weight of a familiar grievance unfurled beneath her words, "and just spit it out."

Azura drew in a deep breath, and allowed herself to shut her eyes for just a moment. "I told Xander this the night of the attack, but I wanted to tell you all. The attack on our camp, the massacre, Corrin's death…" All four royals winced at her bluntness. "…This is all my fault."

For a moment, the room stood in shocked silence, but then:

"Out of the question," Xander said firmly. "I told you when you originally 'confessed,' and I'm telling you now—did you fell the killing blow? Did you open the gates and allow in the Uzai? No? Then that is quite _enough,_ Azura Aretesdottír."

"But I'd _seen_ them!" Azura cried, her composure slipping. "I had seen them, and I didn't make the connection until it was too late!" Desperately, she whirled on Ryoma, whose frame had gone stiff in disbelief. "You remember, don't you? The day that Mikoto died?"

Ryoma was struck by the force of a memory so visceral, it was practically a physical blow. He remembered the decimated square after the Ganglari had shattered, remembered how _red_ the blood on Mikoto's robes had been, remembered that the man he had been dueling wore a hood pulled down so low over his eyes, Ryoma hadn't been certain how he'd seen anything.

And, if he did the mental equivalent of squinting, he could remember that there hadn't really been a man at all.

" _Really,_ Azura?" Hinoka's voice brought Ryoma sharply into focus. Funny, he hadn't even realized he'd been gone. "First Corrin, now Mikoto? Are you going to bring up _everything_ shitty that's happened in the last three years? Should I mention _your_ mother?"

"Hinoka, please," Ryoma said, setting a hand to his sister's arm. "Be at peace."

She shook him off, but sheathed her tongue for the moment.

"That _was_ the Uzai," Ryoma said to Azura, doing her the courtesy of looking her in the eye. "It only just occurred to me."

"The attack at the square," Xander pressed. "You're certain?"

"Yeah." Ryoma seemed to come back to himself fully. "It had everything we now know as hallmarks of the Uzai—empty robes where bodies should be, purplish haze, rocks and grass out of place..."

 _"_ _Except_ it had no motive," Hinoka inputted.

Azura could have strangled her adoptive sister, for Azura knew _exactly_ what the Uzai wanted, and it was exactly what she couldn't tell them all.

"Because… because…" She struggled to come up with something, _anything_ close to the truth. "Because they _want_ something! Or someone above them does."

"I never thought of them like Faceless," Xander said slowly, as if chewing on his words before speaking them. "I always thought they were soldiers." He looked to Camilla. "What if there's someone controlling them?"

"Then that someone would have a vested interest in one side of the war or the other," Camilla said, and then her eyes snapped open wide. "Or just in sowing chaos!"

"They couldn't just be supporting one side or the other," Hinoka said, "they've attacked both sides. That's how we all became…" She paused, and then continued firmly, "… _friends_ in the first place."

"So, really, Azura, you're being ridiculous," Xander said, kindly but firmly. "You only missed a connection they both did, too." He gestured to Ryoma and Hinoka.

"And if I _had_ made the connection," Ryoma said, "I certainly wouldn't have asked the Nohrians for aid." He glanced to Xander. "No offense."

"None taken," said Xander. "It's always better to take care of things in-house."

"So Corrin wouldn't have even _known_ of the Uzai," Ryoma continued, "and certainly Xander, Camilla, Leo, and Elise wouldn't have. It very likely would have ended up worse, had you noticed sooner."

"Really, darling, you mustn't blame yourself," Camilla said, patting Azura's hand absentmindedly. "Xander does that enough, already."

Xander's indignant _"hey!"_ was all but lost amidst Azura's screaming, swirling thoughts.

 _No, no, no, no, no! Don't let them be so kind to you! This is all your fault, Azura. You brought the Uzai upon them, and_ you _are the reason the one of the last of the Vallite bloodline now lies dead._

It finally hit her, fully. _I am the last Vallite_. Arete was gone; Mikoto was gone; King Cadros was gone; their people were long gone; and now, Corrin was gone. There was only one thing that remained of her homeland, and that was their destroyer.

Azura swayed unsteadily on her feet, and by some cruel twist of fate, her adoptive siblings read it as something else entirely. Xander moved the moment his cousin seemed shaky, putting a strong arm to her shoulders and setting her to rights.

"Steady, now," he said.

Camilla was worriedly hovering near Xander's shoulder. "Shall I call Jakob for some tea?"

"How about we get out of this awful place," Hinoka inputted, "and _then_ make tea?"

"Capital," said Xander. He gently tugged Azura forward, still keeping a steadying hand to her back. "Let's press on."

Azura's stomach churned, and she tried to stand her ground. _You cannot tell them; you_ have _to tell them._ But she could only allow herself to be pulled along, carried forward by the weight of her lies.


End file.
